Divine Shadows
by ForTalosandtheEmpire
Summary: After being pardoned by Emperor Uriel Septim VII, the Bosmer known as Talise is sent, without explanation, to the isolated island of Vvardenfell. As she fights to navigate the Dunmeri politics she finds herself embroiled in, she is also wary of the ancient shadow that haunts her steps, one that is terrifyingly familiar.
1. Pardon

**Rating: This story is rated T for violence and some language.**

 **Disclaimer: Morrowind is the property of Bethesda Game Studios.**

* * *

 _I stood in the middle of a field of ashes, surrounded on all sides by twisted plants and sharp black rocks. Dust and ashes whipped around me in the howling wind. I raised an arm in an attempt to shield my face. From somewhere in the midst of the gale I heard a woman's voice, slow and serene. Her words were soft, but I heard them as clearly as if she whispered them into my ear._

 _"They have taken you from the Imperial City's prison, first by carriage and now by boat, to the east. To Vvardenfell," she said to me. "Fear not, for I am watchful."_

 _I turned around, looking for any sign of the speaker. As I did, the scene changed. The wind died. In its absence the ashes fell back to the ground. Above, the sky was dark and full of stars. I heard distant thunder._

"Wake up. We're here. Why are you shaking? Are you okay?"

 _As rain began to fall, the sky rippled and turned into the inky-black sea. The only light came from a single moon. Silver. Why was there only Secunda? A star grew brighter in the darkness beside it, becoming almost blinding, when—_

"Wake up!"

I started awake. Over my head I saw a ceiling of dark wooden planks. For a moment I struggled to remember where I was. Then it came back to me. The Imperial prison. The hasty removal from my cell and transport to a ship. A ship that had, based on the lessened rocking motions beneath me, finally stopped.

Ah.

I blinked and my gaze finally came to rest on the Dunmer hovering over me. The one who woke me. He was bald, heavily scarred, and clad only in a pair of tattered trousers. The worried light in his one good eye seemed to soften when he saw that I was awake.

"There you go," he said in that same rough voice that had cut through the vision. When I did little more than stare up at him, he explained, "You were dreaming."

"Of course," I murmured. It had not felt like a dream at the time. It had seemed... too real. Too tangible, perhaps. I could almost still feel the rain on my skin, and the echo of the woman's voice still hummed softly in my ears. My nose twitched at the lingering, musty scent of the billowing ash.

When I slowly pushed myself into a sitting position on my hammock, the Dunmer carefully backed away to sit on a nearby crate. He leaned forward, resting gray elbows on dirty knees, and studied me.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Talise."

"Jiub." He paused and added in a quieter voice, "I heard them say we've reached Vvardenfell. I'm sure they'll let us go." Before I could utter another word, he glanced back toward the doorway and held a finger to his chapped lips. "Quiet. Here comes the guard."

I listened as well. There was the sound of heavy boots approaching, setting the wood planks of the floor creaking with every step. An armored Imperial appeared in the doorway a moment later. His steely gaze immediately turned upon me.

"This is where you get off," he said. "Come with me."

I got to my feet. My legs were unsteady beneath me, but I remained upright. After wiping a bit of grime from my cheek, I followed the guard out with my head held high. He led me through the hold of the ship, which creaked and groaned around us. In the shadowed recesses I spotted other prisoners watching me with wary or resentful gazes. Heart pounding, I willed myself to keep my own gaze trained forward.

The guard stopped beneath a ladder and nodded to the open trapdoor overhead, saying, "Get yourself up on deck, and let's keep this as civil as possible."

Without a word, I climbed up the ladder and pushed open the trapdoor. I squinted, temporarily blinded by the bright sunlight. There was the sound of waves hitting the side of the prison ship and lapping against the nearby shore. The scent of brine and dirt and mold filled the air. When my eyes adjusted, I saw muddy banks and tall trees draped with heavy veils of moss. The ship was docked at a small town built on the edge of the shore. It was Imperial in style, judging by the look of the visible buildings.

"This is where they want you," a uniformed Redguard told me. "Head down to the dock and a guard will show you to the Census Office."

He indicated the gangway and I stepped down it, mindful of the way the tide made the boat sway beneath my feet. Sure enough, there was a guard waiting for me at the dock itself. The Imperial practically towered over me as he looked down, first at me, then back at the papers in his hands.

"So, you've finally arrived. Follow me to the office and they'll finish your release."

He led me to the stout building placed at the end of the dock. A stone wall blocked off the rest of the village. The guard stopped and pulled the door open.

"Go on in," he said, nodding to the interior.

I did, stepping into the office on the other side. A dark fireplace took up most of one wall, and beside it was a set of shelves filled with books and ornamental plates. Yet another guard stood watch by the only other door in the room. A Breton with a bushy white mustache sat behind the wooden desk, his quill scratching on a piece of paper. He looked up when I entered and pushed his spectacles further up the bridge of his nose.

"Ah, yes. We've been expecting you." He cleared his throat and pulled out a different paper from the stack beside him, one that I noticed already had something written on it. "You'll have to be recorded before you're officially released. Now then, your name is Talise, correct?"

"Yes."

His quill pen scratched. "And what was your prior occupation?"

"I–"

The smell of ozone as lightning arced from my fingers. The bite of a longsword through flesh straight to the bone. The overwhelming roar of the crowd.

"Yes? Speak up."

"I was a Spellsword."

He made a thoughtful sound in the back of his throat and kept writing. "The letter that preceded you mentioned that you were born under a certain sign. What would that be?"

"The Tower. I was born on the third of Frostfall, 352."

"Interesting." More scratching. He set the quill back in the inkpot and pushed the parchment toward me. "Now, before I stamp these papers, make sure this information is correct."

I looked it over.

 _For release, by Emperor Uriel Septim VII's decree, to the district of Vvardenfell in the province of Morrowind._

 _Name: Talise_

 _Race: Wood Elf_

 _Birthdate: 3rd Frostfall, 3E 352_

 _Former Occupation: Spellsword_

 _Signed,_

 _Socucius Ergalla_

 _Agent of the Seyda Neen Imperial Census and Excise_

 _16th of Last Seed, 3E 427_

When I nodded, the Breton took it back and stamped it with a wax seal. Handing it back to me, he said in a bored voice, "Show your papers to the captain when you exit to get your release fee."

I scooped it up with a nod and turned toward the other door. There, the guard used a key to unlock it.

"Continue through to the next building and talk to Sellus Gravius," he told me.

I stepped through the doorway and into the hallway beyond. Turning right, I walked through another small room and out into a courtyard. Over the stone wall that surrounded it, I saw the mast of the ship I arrived in. On the other side of the courtyard, as the guard said, was another building. Opening the door, I stepped inside.

The building housed a second office. A weary-eyed man in Imperial armor sat behind the desk, leaning against his elbows. The captain the Breton and the guard spoke of, I supposed. He immediately straightened when he saw me enter.

Before I could utter a single word, he held out one large, callused hand and said, "First, let me take your identification papers."

I silently handed them to him and he looked them over. Then he nodded and set them down on his desk.

"Thank you. Word of your arrival only reached me yesterday. I am Sellus Gravius, and I am here to welcome you to Morrowind." He sighed and, as if to stave off any questions, added, "I don't know why you're here, or why you were released from prison and shipped here, but your authorization comes directly from Emperor Uriel Septim the Seventh himself. I don't need to know any more than that. When you leave this office, you are a free womer. But, before you go, I have instructions on your duties. They're from the Emperor, so pay careful attention."

I had not heard anything about any "duties." Then again, I was told very little before I arrived.

"What sort of duties?" I asked him.

The captain reached beneath his desk. "This package came with the news of your arrival." He placed a rectangular package sealed with the Imperial Dragon crest on the desk, along with a letter and a purse, and pushed them toward me. "You are to take it to Caius Cosades, in the city of Balmora. Go to the South Wall Cornerclub and ask for him — they'll know where to find him. Serve him as you would serve the Emperor himself. I also have a letter for you, and a disbursal to your name."

"Thank you. If I may ask, how do I get to Balmora from here?" I asked as I gathered the items into my arms.

"It's north of here. The road out passes Pelagiad village and Fort Pelagiad, passes Fort Moonmoth, then turns west across the Odai River and into Balmora." He hesitated. "But take my advice. Since you're new here, take the silt strider to Balmora instead. It's fast, cheap, and much safer than walking. Cross the bridge and head east. You can't miss it."

I thanked him again and, still carrying the items he had given me, stepped out through the office's door.

It let out onto Seyda Neen's main street. As I'd noticed before, the buildings were all made in a typically Imperial style, with stone walls and thatched roofs. Open wooden shutters allowed what little breeze there was into the houses on either side. Beyond the main street I walked down, I saw more houses closer to the water. Those were smaller, made of wood, and had a run-down look about them. In the distance I saw the top of a stone lighthouse.

As instructed, I crossed the bridge on the far side of town, passing by the last few houses at the very edge, and headed east up the road toward the morning sun. To my left was nothing save for twisted trees and thick marshes dotted with mushrooms. Ahead, I saw a tall wooden platform with stairs leading up to it. And on the other side…

I stopped.

The creature let out a rumbling cry that echoed through the morning air. It was several stories tall and stood on several stilt-like limbs that almost seemed too spindly to support it. Its body was covered with a thick, hard carapace the color of dry earth. At the top, the shell was partially hollowed out with some sort of cavity. A canvas awning covered the cavity's back half and lanterns hung out from poles hooked to its shell. A short bridge led from the platform out to it. I stared up, feeling stunned. Was _that_ the "silt strider" the captain told me to find? My transport to the city of Balmora? It was an insect.

I certainly wasn't in Cyrodiil any longer.

I blinked and shook my head before ascending the stairs to the top of the platform. A Dunmer waited at the top, leaning against a post. She was dressed in loose clothing that might have been brightly colored if not for the heavy coating of dust. Her hair, like mine, was dark and cropped short.

"Good day, outlander," she said. "I'm the caravaner, and I manage this silt strider. Tell me your destination, and I'll tell you if I can help you."

"You travel to Balmora, yes?" I asked.

She nodded. "I do, along with Vivec, Gnisis, and Suran."

"Just Balmora is fine."

"All right. It's fifteen drakes for the trip."

Drakes. Septims. Gold. I adjusted my grip on the items in my arms, fished the necessary coins out of the pouch, and handed them to her. The womer counted them out before gesturing to the silt strider.

"Hop into the compartment there and we can get going," she said.

I passed her, walked over the bridge, and climbed into the compartment. A worn yet clean rug was spread out over the bottom. I sat down on it cross-legged and closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way my skin crawled. For the moment, all I needed to do was push the feelings of discomfort aside. I would find a way to deal with all of this later.

Eventually I heard a creaking sound and opened my eyes to see the caravaner climbing into the compartment.

"Seems it's just you today," she said absently. "It's always slow during this season, so there's not really any sense in waiting for anyone else to show up. Let's be off."

* * *

Dusk was settling in when I finally arrived at Balmora. The silt strider port there was larger than the one we'd left behind in Seyda Neen. Large enough that another of the creatures was already waiting there and it seemed as if there might still be room for a third. After the caravaner set up the ladder and bridge, I stepped out onto the stone platform. An evening breeze blew past, ruffling my curls as I looked down at the city below.

Plaster-walled buildings lined the winding streets, which led down to a dark river that cut the city in half. Brightly colored awnings covered many of the flat rooftops. Lanterns hung everywhere, warding off the deepening shadows. Tall, rectangular towers stood like imposing guardians in the city's corners.

I took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of earth and smoke, before setting off again.

The South Wall Cornerclub was, as to be expected, built against the city's southern wall on the other side of the river. The mud-brick building stood several floors high, but with squat levels. A tattered flag decorated with an image of some kind of insect hung outside. I grabbed the tarnished handle, pulled open the front door, and stepped inside.

I noticed the tavern's wary atmosphere about it from the moment I entered, emphasized by the dim lighting and the narrowed gaze of the patrons as they watched me pass by. A Nord woman with cropped brown hair and a pale, drawn face. A Bosmer with knotted blond locks and sunken eyes. I felt a faint shudder run down my spine.

When I rounded the corner, I saw two people ahead, both of them leaning over a table set into the corner and arguing in an undertone. The first was an Altmer with a dirty-blond braid that hung down his back. He towered over his companion, who was at least a head shorter than he was. She was pale, skinny, and her long red hair was pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck.

When the mer stopped talking with a distinct frown in my direction, she looked over at me as well. Her gaze was the same sharp gray as a steel blade.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"I'm looking for a man named Caius Cosades."

"That old sugar tooth?" the Altmer cut in with a perplexed look.

When I nodded, the woman said, "I'm not sure where Cosades is living now… Gan?"

The Altmer shrugged.

"If you really want to find him, you should ask Bacola. Bacola Closcius, the owner," he said, indicating the cornerclub around him with a forefinger. "He'll know."

I thanked them and left, feeling the redhead's gaze boring into my back as I did.

I eventually tracked down Bacola on one of the tavern's upper floors. My first impression of the man — with his old, puffy-sleeved shirt and distinct widow's peak — was that he resembled some kind of oversized owl. The Khajiit he spoke with fell silent the moment I arrived and wordlessly brushed past me to descend the stairs leading to the ground floor. On instinct, my fingers slid to my coin purse. It was still there.

"Good evening, miss," Bacola said, drawing my attention back to him. "Is there something I can help you with?"

"I think so. I'm looking for a man named Caius Cosades and was told that you knew where to find him."

The man nodded. "Indeed, I do. He rents a little bed-and-basket just up the hill on the north edge of town. Go out the front door and up the stairs. Then take a left and head down to the very end of the street. His is the one in the north corner," he said, vaguely gesturing the directions with his hands.

I left the South Wall Cornerclub and headed up onto the street he'd described. It was much darker and emptier in that part of the city. The houses there seemed mostly worse-for-the-wear as compared to what I'd seen on the western side of the river. The ground beneath my feet was unpaved and muddy.

As Bacola had instructed, I turned my attention to the door at the far northeastern corner of the street. I climbed the two worn front steps and knocked on the door. As I did, some of the peeling green paint flaked off. A few moments passed before I heard the dull _click_ of the lock and the door opened a sliver, revealing the barest glimpse of a figure beyond.

"Whatever it is you want, I'm sure I'm not interested," he rasped and began to close the door again.

"No, wait!" I slammed my hands against the panel to keep it from shutting. "If you're Caius Cosades, I was told to report to you."

After a beat, the door creaked open further, fully revealing the man on the other side. He was a late middle-aged Imperial. Taller than I was, although that wasn't difficult. The hair on his head was either gray or gone. He wore loose trousers and, surprisingly, no shirt. His brow furrowed as he gazed down at me.

"I _am_ Caius Cosades. What do you mean, you were told to report to me? What are you talking about?"

I stared back at him as I said, "My name is Talise. Captain Sellus Gravius in Seyda Neen instructed that I should report directly to you and deliver the package he gave me."

"A package," he repeated. "Perhaps you'll let me look at it?"

Wordlessly, I held it out to him. He took it and, with a knife taken from his belt, slit the Imperial seal keeping it closed. Upon opening it, he examined the piece of parchment that lay at the top. Then, very slowly, he nodded.

"Yes. Very interesting." Closing the package again, he pulled the door open wider and gestured inside, saying, "I think you'd better come in so that we can talk."

I brushed past him and took a quick look around the place. There was only one small room. Most of the right side was taken up by a rough wooden table, which was occupied by some flickering candles, a metal cup, and a potted plant. A bed was pushed up against the left wall, along with several shelves. Stacks of books, clothes, and other assorted oddities were scattered around the room.

"Sit," he said, grabbing the chair from the table and turning it around. I did.

Caius Cosades seated himself on the edge of his bed, facing me. He leaned forward, pressing his fingertips together, and appeared to study me.

"So," he said after seeming to decide the silence had stretched on long enough, "the letter said that the Emperor wants me to make you a Novice in the Blades. That means you'll be following my orders. Are you ready to follow my orders, Talise?"

"Yes," I told him, my voice firm.

"Good. Now, they'll have my head if I don't make this official. This isn't the ancestral fortress of the Blades, so we won't be formal, though Talos knows Old Jauf wouldn't be happy if he found out…" He cleared his throat. "You just need to swear your loyalty and service to those with the Dragon Blood, meaning the Emperor and his heirs."

"I swear it."

The Imperial nodded, obviously satisfied. "That's all I needed to hear. Welcome to the service, Novice Talise. Now you belong to the Blades. We're the Emperor's eyes and ears in the provinces. You can stay here if you need to rest, but leave my personal things alone unless I say otherwise, understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"All right," he said, chuckling dryly. "First thing, pilgrim. What were you before they sent you here?"

"I was originally trained as a Spellsword, serving as support in the tenth legion," I explained.

"Hard to imagine someone that small serving in the Imperial Legion."

I gave him a weary sort of half-smile. "You might be surprised. After I was discharged, I fought in the Imperial City's Arena. And, before you ask, I don't know why I was imprisoned. I don't remember."

He frowned. "You don't remember?"

"No. It doesn't happen often, but sometimes I get… blank spots in my memory."

"Well, the Emperor didn't say, so I guess it doesn't matter in the long-run," Cosades said. He got to his feet and walked over to a trunk wedged under the shelves. After rummaging around for a few moments and muttering to himself, he came back with a clinking pouch.

"Here's two hundred Septims," he said, tossing it into my hands. "Go get yourself a decent weapon. Or armor. Or a spell. You'll probably need all three eventually. And second thing… you need a cover identity. You're new here, and you look it. Find someone to sign on with, get some experience. Then, when you're ready, come back and I'll have orders for you."


	2. Oaths

The cloth wrapped around my head barely muffled the roar of the wind. I gritted my teeth and kept fighting my way through, despite not being able to see ten feet through the billowing ash. Storms like this were yet another of the charming aspects of Vvardenfell I'd discovered since my arrival.

I finally reached the sheltered entrance of the Ald Skar Inn, wrenched open the front door, and stepped inside. The wind banged the door shut again behind me and I stood on the threshold for a moment, brushing the thick layer of ash off of my clothing. With that finished, I pulled off my goggles and unwrapped the scarf from around my head, shaking ash from the latter as well. Once it was clear the island's ash storms presented an issue, I invested in some protective gear. Not only were they powerful, but I also heard stories of the strange diseases carried with them, ones that were resistant to most potions and restorative spells. That was not something I especially wanted to risk.

After the dusty goggles were off, I finally got a look at my surroundings. Paper lanterns hung from the inn's vaulted ceiling and dark purple-red plants grew in planters along the walls. The bar itself was located on an open upper level surrounded by railings. Climbing the stairs that led up to it, I saw a few other patrons sitting at the tables there and chatting with one another. Set into an alcove on the back wall was a long shelf of various liquor bottles. The Dunmer tending the bar was busy cleaning a glass as I approached.

"How can I help you?" she asked, not even glancing in my direction.

"I need a room for the night," I told her.

"Ten drakes."

She finally looked up when I placed the coins on the bartop. After quickly counting them, she stored the gold somewhere below the counter, replacing them with a small wooden tag burned with a Daedric letter.

"Occupied rooms have these hanging by the door," she explained. "When you pick out a vacant one, put this up outside."

I picked up the tag and thoughtfully turned it between my fingers. Then I said, "I also wonder if you know where I might find some work here. Long-term, preferably."

The womer eyed me critically. Her crimson gaze passed from the longword strapped to my back to the plain leather armor I wore. I was told it was made from the hide of netches: the strange, floating, tentacled creatures I occasionally saw while on the road.

"The Fighters' Guild is the obvious choice," she told me. "They often have work for outlanders and will probably be more than willing to take you on."

I frowned, but stayed silent. There was a reason I hadn't joined on with Cyrodiil's branch of the Fighters' Guild once I was out of the Legion. The one time I tried, my mind had blanked the moment I walked in the door. Besides, they seemed like little more than a band of glorified mercenaries. Despite everything else, I'd still taken some pride in the duels I fought in the Arena. It was founded by Gaiden Shinji, a place where warriors could prove their mettle.

She seemed to sense my hesitation, because she then added slowly, "If you're bolder, you _could_ try the Redoran Council Hall."

"Meaning the Great House Redoran?"

"The very same. They might have some use for another sword arm, if you're lucky."

I tapped the tag lightly against the counter as I mulled it over. I was, as she pointed out, an outlander. Plenty of Vvardenfell's residents were quick enough to show disdain for that alone. I didn't expect joining one of the ruling Houses would be easy, not even as a mere hireling. In my experience, however, easy rarely meant the same thing as good. Cosades said I should obtain a cover. If they would have me, what would be better than working in the employ of one of the seats of Vvardenfell's power?

"Where do I find this council hall?" I asked once I'd made up my mind.

"In the Manor District, which is under the Skar."

"Skar?"

"Skar is the shell of the ancient Emperor Crab, outlander," she explained with a sigh, obviously impatient at my question. "It's nearly impossible to miss. The Redoran Council, the Noble Manors, and the fine merchants are all inside. As such, they are all 'under Skar.'"

"I understand. Thank you."

* * *

I stayed in the inn until the ash storm passed. Once the wind died, I ventured out onto Ald'ruhn's streets. Without the clouds of billowing ash, I could finally take in my surroundings as I walked. The buildings were largely undecorated and the simple, curved outlines of their shell exteriors matched the dusty hills that surrounded them. Already, the locals were outside, shoveling or sweeping the ash away from their doorsteps.

It was at the northern end of the city that I found what I was looking for. The "Skar" was massive, the dome of the shell stretching hundreds of feet across. Its exterior surface was rough and pale brown. A set of stone stairs led up to the large double doors set into the side of the shell. On either side of the steps were rows of brightly-colored banners, each of them displaying the black outline of a stylized beetle. I climbed the steps, pulled open the door, and stepped inside.

The interior was a massive chamber carved out of the giant shell. The whole space was lit by lanterns, which lent it a somber feeling. Wooden walkways led from the entrance to the many doorways set into the walls. Stepping out onto the circular platform at the center of the chamber, I stopped and glanced around, wondering which of them led to the Council Hall the innkeeper spoke of.

"Here to cause trouble, outlander?" a voice growled from behind me.

Turning, I saw a House Redoran guard standing behind me. Like the other Dunmeri guards I'd seen in Ald'ruhn, and in Balmora, he was outfitted in a full set of that strange, yellowish armor. Bonemold, I'd heard it called. His face was completely covered by his helm, save for the long, horizontal opening for the eyes. I noted that his hand was carefully poised to reach for the steel-headed mace he carried.

"Of course not," I said quietly. A fight was the last thing I wanted, especially one with a guard.

He took a step forward to tower over me and said, "It seems you're skulking around."

"That was never my intention."

"Then I would suggest making yourself scarce."

I began to respond, but was cut off by a woman's voice asking, "What's going on here?"

The speaker was a Redguard. Tight, dark curls crowned her head and her sharp gaze passed from the guard to me and back again. When she crossed her arms, clearly waiting for an answer, the silver-blue layers of her dress rustled.

"I found this Bosmer loitering and believe her to have dishonorable intentions."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

"She could be a spy for one of the other Houses, or perhaps even for the Empire," he insisted.

She briefly looked me over and scoffed, "She doesn't look like much of a spy to me."

I kept my expression carefully blank.

"Did you ask for the reason as to why she's here?"

"Not yet," he ground out.

"All right, then, I'll ask for you." Turning her full attention to me, she asked, "So, what is your purpose for being in the Manor District?"

Lifting my chin, I told her, "I'm looking for the Redoran Council Hall."

She seemed a little surprised by that answer. "Are you looking to join House Redoran?" At my nod of confirmation, she gave me a wry smile and said, "It looks like the right person found you, then. I am Neminda, Drillmaster and Recruiter for House Redoran. The councilors have entrusted me with the responsibility of examining those who wish to serve our House."

"I've got better things to do, so let's move this along," the guard cut in rather bluntly.

"Yes, let's." Gesturing to me, Neminda said, "Come. We can discuss the matter in the Council Hall."

She led me across several more walkways until we reached a trio of doorways set in a carved half-circle along the chamber wall. Banners displaying the same beetle design as those outside hung on either side of the doors. Neminda entered first, stepping over the threshold, and I followed close behind.

On the other side was a large circular room lit by flickering candlelight. At the center was a massive planter filled with a variety of strange ferns and a relatively small tree. The cross vaulted ceiling overhead displayed a continuous pattern of tiles. Two hallways snaked off the main room, leading to I knew not where.

Neminda walked to the desk on the far side of the chamber and sat down behind it. Once she was settled she said, "First of all…"

"Talise."

"Talise. Thank you. I wish to know what it is that makes you believe you're qualified for consideration."

I clasped my hands behind my back and told her, "I was trained by and served in the Imperial Legion for twenty years."

Something about that made the corner of her mouth turn up in the barest of smiles.

"Then you have proficiency in the art of combat?"

"I believe I do, yes."

"Good. It is the duty of House Redoran to preserve the ways of the warrior, so martial proficiency is required for all those within our ranks." Pressing her fingertips together and leaning toward me, she said, "I am willing to offer you a position as a hireling to our House. However, to see if what you say is indeed true, I am sending you on an errand. A test, if you will. Sera Drulene Falen has asked for our help. She says she's having trouble with bandits."

At my questioning look, Neminda shrugged lightly and continued, "It happens, especially further from the law. Usually the bandits are outcast Ashlanders. Go talk to her. She might be able to tell you where they are. Deal with them, and we can continue this discussion."

"Where will I find this Sera Falen?" I asked as I got to my feet.

"Leave west out of Ald'ruhn and take the road toward Gnisis. When you go into the hills, take the left fork to the southwest. Take the right path at the next fork and you should see her guar straight ahead."

I nodded and left the Council Hall.

* * *

From Ald'ruhn, I followed Neminda's directions and headed west. Drulene Falen's farm lay nestled between the rocky hills, surrounded by towering boulders and warped trees with branches like grasping fingers. The only building was a hut, made in the same shell-like style to those I'd seen in other Redoran settlements. A herd of squat reptilian creatures I could only assume were guar roamed the area. Tending to the farm's small garden was a Dunmer. Her red hair was bound up with a green scarf. She looked around at my approach.

"Did Neminda send you?" she asked. Her red eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked me over.

"Yes. She said you are having trouble with bandits in the area."

Drulene sighed, her shoulders drooping. "They've been after my guar, and those of a few other herders nearby. If this keeps up, I might have to sell what I've still got and move back to Tear."

"I'll find them, don't worry," I reassured her. "What can you tell me about them?"

"There's two of them, as far as I've seen." She pointed off into the distance as she continued, "They came up from the south last time, and they led off one of my best guar that way. There might be a cave or a tomb somewhere nearby that they're hiding out in."

I left the farm and headed off into the hills in the direction she indicated. For a long time, I found no trace of anywhere that would serve as a suitable hiding place for a gang of bandits. Then I saw several guar tied up in a depression between two hills. I climbed down to get a better look, careful not to make any sudden moves lest I startle them and alert the bandits. The creatures barely seemed to notice me. Instead, they continued making strange growling, purring sounds. Once I reached the bottom of the hill, I saw a doorway set into its rocky face. It was the perfect hiding spot. From above, it was nearly impossible to spot. Drawing my sword, I pushed open the weather-worn door and stepped inside.

The rooms within were so dark I could barely see at first. The lit torches barely provided enough light to walk, and I had to feel my way down the stairs. After passing through a small, dark chamber that appeared to serve as a chapel, I stepped into a longer, more brightly lit hallway. Its stone walls were unadorned. Altars on either side held ceramic urns I could only assume were filled with the ashes of the dead interred there. Save for the torches, the tomb seemed abandoned, and I briefly wondered if the bandits were gone at the moment. Then I heard voices coming from behind the door ahead. With careful steps, I walked forward and pushed it open.

It led to one final chamber, which was bigger than all of the previous halls. The raised platform at the far end appeared to be the bandits' living space, with bedrolls and various discarded items scattered about. Two figures stood in the middle of the room, arguing with each other. One was a Bosmer, the other a Breton. Both had their blond hair pulled back into ponytails and the latter gripped a rusty axe. I slowly lifted my arm, reaching for my blade. Despite my efforts to stay quiet, the mer looked in my direction just then.

"Hey!" he shouted, pointing at me. The Breton turned his head around to stare at me as well. He hefted his axe. So much for the element of surprise. I drew my sword.

He charged with a yell and swung his axe at me. The man was clearly not a fighter; his movements were sloppy and the attack left him far too open. I sidestepped and his momentum carried him past me. Before he could turn back again, I slashed at the back of his unprotected knees. He crumpled. The head of his axe clattered against the floor. I spun my sword and jammed the blade down through his back. He let out a harsh, choking gasp.

I looked back over my shoulder then as his companion, dagger drawn, made to stab me in the back. My hand shot out and released a pulse of violet-colored electricity that hit the mer squarely in the chest. He flew backwards and hit the ground hard, skidding a few feet across the stone before lying still. He didn't get up again.

I wrenched the sword out of the dead Breton's back and surveyed my handiwork. It was time to tell Drulene Falen the good news.

* * *

When I returned to the Redoran Council Hall, Neminda stood behind her desk. She leaned across it, hands splayed flat and brows furrowed, as she spoke in a hurried undertone to the Dunmer across the desk from her. At the sound of my approaching footsteps, the woman looked up and let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

"Thank the gods _someone's_ here," she said. "What happened to Drulene's bandits?"

"They've been taken care of."

"Good. I've got another assignment for you. Serjo Athyn Sarethi — one of the Councilors of House Redoran — believes his life is in danger. I've called for reinforcements, but who knows when the guards will arrive?" She shook her head and continued, "I need you to go to Sarethi Manor. Stay there until Councilor Sarethi gives you other orders or until more guards arrive. Arnais will show you the way."

The Drillmaster indicated the mer who she'd been speaking to when I entered.

I looked at him, then back to Neminda. "Understood."

"Good." She sank into her chair and said with just a hint of a wry smile, "You say you know how to fight? Now is your chance to prove it."

I followed the Dunmer, Arnais, out of the Redoran Council Hall once more and across the wooden bridges that spanned the interior chamber of the Skar. He led me to another of the doors set into the wall and gestured to it.

"This is the manor, sera," he told me. I nodded and pulled open the door, leaving him standing outside.

Unlike the Council Hall, Sarethi manor began with a flight of stairs rather than a large open chamber. It did, however, possess the same sort of arched ceiling I'd seen earlier. Patterns of colored tiles decorated the base of the walls. At the bottom was a long hall with a row of thick pillars that ran the length of the room. Dark red rugs covered the floor. Upon one of them were several bodies. Guards in bonemold armor and a mer in plain, dark clothing. The pool of blood beneath them was hardly visible against the woven threads of the carpet.

A mer in crimson robes leaned heavily against one of the pillars. His black hair was done up in several knots and what looked to be a Dwemer-brass sword was in his hand. I noticed that it was bloodied. He watched me through narrowed eyes as I approached him cautiously.

"Serjo Sarethi? Neminda sent me to protect you."

Just like that, his tense posture relaxed a fraction.

"Thank the Tribunal," he said with a sigh. Pointing toward the bodies, he added, "That assassin already took out both of my guards. I fear there will be more of them soon."

Behind me, I heard the faint sound of a weapon being drawn. I turned fast and saw two new mer coming down the stairs. They were dressed similarly to the body of the dead assassin that lay nearby, and both wielded cleaver-like blades. Upon seeing that I had noticed them, the one with heavily-pierced ears pulled another knife from his belt. It was both thinner than the other and smaller. He drew his arm back. I reached for my sword, ready to sidestep the blade he was about to thrown, and—

I blinked.

The assassins were dead. Their bodies lay sprawled out over the floor. I stood over them, breathing hard. My sword dripped with blood. The side of my right ear stung. There was a deep cut there, which stung when I reached up to touch it. I winced. I must not have been fast enough to avoid the dagger the assassin had thrown. Judging by the corpses, I had apparently gotten the better of them in the end. I didn't know what actually happened; the whole fight was nothing more than a blank gap in my memory. I hadn't had a lapse like this in some time, but I supposed it was inevitable sooner or later.

There was the sound of boots on the stairs, and several Redoran guards hurried down into the manor's main hall. When they saw me, their grips tightened on their already-drawn weapons.

"What are you doing in here?" one of them asked.

"At ease," Councilor Sarethi said, walking past me to speak with them. "This Bosmer defended me after the assassins succeeded in killing my guards."

The guard in the lead looked from the Councilor to me, then to the sword in my hands, and finally to the cooling bodies of the assassins lying at my feet.

"Very well," he said in a gruff voice. "We have orders to remain in the manor until it is certain the danger is past."

"Carry on, then."

The guards spread out to stand at the ready, their gazes flicking back to the entry every few moments.

Once they were gone, the Councilor turned to me and asked, "What is your name?"

"Talise, serjo," I told him, remembering the Dunmeri term of address Neminda had used.

"Thank you, sera Talise. I am in your debt. Rest assured that I will do what I can to return the favor." He turned away and clasped his hands behind his back. "Tell Neminda that I am safe. You are dismissed." With that, he walked toward an archway at the end of the hall, the guards following close behind.

I cleaned my blade and sheathed it before leaving the manor. Crossing the wooden bridges again, I returned to the Council Hall. Once I was inside, Neminda rose quickly from behind her desk and hurried to meet me.

"I heard there was an attack. Is Councilor Sarethi safe?" she asked, her voice frantic.

"His guards were dead when I arrived, and more assassins attacked, but yes. He is safe."

"Thank the gods for that. He and my father were close friends and the Sarethi family has had enough trouble recently." Gesturing to one of the benches that circled the central planter, Neminda said, "If you'll wait here, there are things I need to attend to. And you should probably get that ear looked at. I'm certain we have someone on hand who can do so. I'll send them over."

* * *

I waited on that bench in the Redoran Council Hall's entrance for a long time. As she'd promised, the Drillmaster had indeed sent a healer to tend to my wounded ear. The gash had closed, but the spot was still tender. The healer told me it would almost certainly leave a scar behind. This was hardly news to me; I'd earned plenty before, both in my time in the Legion and the Arena.

There was the sound of footsteps and the rustle of fabric, and I looked up to see Neminda return. There was a purse in her hands.

"Guard duty pays in drakes, Talise," she said as she held it out to me. "It's not much, but perhaps you can put it to good use."

I took it from her with a murmur of thanks, but I sensed that there was something else.

In a serious tone, she continued, "It has also been decided that, rather than bringing you on as a mere hireling, you are instead to serve as a retainer for the Great House. This will require a more formal induction than it would have otherwise. Provided you are still interested."

"Of course," I replied as I got to my feet.

"Very well. Welcome to the Great House Redoran."


	3. Ruin

When I returned to Caius Cosades' house in Balmora, I found the man sitting at his table eating a bowl of some sort of stew and going over a short stack of documents. Turning his attention away from the papers, he gave me a long, appraising look. His gaze seemed to take in my dusty armor, the sword at my back, and perhaps something else that I could not name.

"You definitely look less green than you did the last time you were here," he finally said. "So, Talise, who are you now?"

"I have officially been taken on as a retainer for the Great House Redoran," I told him.

"Redoran," he repeated. After rubbing his chin, he added, "They might be a whole batch of sticks-in-the-mud, but they're _powerful_ sticks-in-the-mud. The Great Houses hold most of the real influence in Vvardenfell. I expect you already know it's difficult to rise in House ranks as an outlander?"

"I do."

"Their traditions should align well with your Legion background, and I can't fault you for picking them over one of the Imperial-run Guilds on the island. A Great House is practically the last place you'd expect to find one of us."

"So, do you have orders for me?" I asked, leaning with one hand against the table.

"I do. Go talk to Hasphat Antabolis at the local Fighters Guild headquarters. Ask him what he knows about both the Nerevarine and Sixth House cults. You'll have to do him a favor first." Cosades grimaced and clarified, "Probably an _ugly_ favor, but do it anyway. Then get the information and report back to me."

He got up from the table and took the papers with him. Walking over to the chest at the far wall of the room, he tucked them inside before closing the lid again.

"By the way, Hasphat is a student of Morrowind history. Take the chance to get a little education. I have a few history books in here." He gestured to one of the shelves over his head, which was haphazardly piled with tomes of various sizes. "Help yourself. You're welcome to them. No point in being part of history if you're to ignorant to understand it."

"Any suggestions?"

"Jeanette Sitte's little book is a good place to start. I have a copy here." The man pulled a green book from the shelf, blew off the dust coating it, and handed it to me. I glanced down at the cover. A Short History of Morrowind by Jeanette Sitte.

Looking back at the chair he had just vacated, I began "Would you mind if I—"

"Go ahead," he said absently. His attention was back on the shelf, and he appeared to be reordering the books. Under what criteria, I couldn't be sure. There seemed no rhyme or reason to it.

Sitting down at the table, I opened the book and skimmed the introduction. It described the arrival of the Dunmer, who were once exiles from the Summerset Isle, in Morrowind, led by the prophet Veloth. Then their domination by Nordic raiders, the rise of the Great Houses, the creation of Resdayn — the original name of the Province — and its subsequent occupation by the Empire.

I skipped past the sections on the districts of mainland Morrowind. None of them seemed particularly relevant at the moment. Instead, I stopped at the section labeled _Vvardenfell District._ As I read, I absently tugged at my left earlobe.

 _In 3E 414, Vvardenfell Territory, previously a Temple preserve under Imperial protection, was reorganized as an Imperial Provincial District. Vvardenfell had been maintained as a preserve administrated by the Temple since the Treaty of the Armistice, and except for a few Great House settlements sanctioned by the Temple, Vvardenfell was previously uninhabited and undeveloped. But when the centuries-old Temple ban on trade and settlement of Vvardenfell was revoked by King of Morrowind, a flood of Imperial colonists and Great House Dunmer came to Vvardenfell, expanding old settlements and building new ones._

The chapter continued, providing descriptions of the way the three of the five Great Houses present on the island gained their footholds. The way the land was split into sub-districts, along with another controlled by the Temple, and the conflicts between the factions that often bordered on outright war. The chapter ended with a final, chilling passage.

 _But most serious are the plagues and diseased hosts produced by the blight storms sweeping out from Red Mountain. Vvardenfell and all Morrowind have long been menaced by the legendary evils of Dagoth Ur and his ash vampire kin dwelling beneath Red Mountain. For centuries the Temple has contained this threat within the Ghostfence. But recently the Temple's resources and will have faltered, and the threat from Red Mountain has grown in scale and intensity. If the Ghostfence should fail, and hosts of blighted monsters were to spill out across Vvardenfell's towns and villages, the Empire might have no choice but to evacuate Vvardenfell district and abandon it to disease and corruption._

The foreign terms made little sense to me, but the threat of the blight storms was real enough. I had seen a few back when I was in Ald'ruhn and they were always a concern.

"This place is falling apart," I murmured.

Cosades snorted. "And you're just figuring this out now?"

I closed the book and looked back over my shoulder at him, only for him to shrug in response.

* * *

Following the directions given by Cosades, then by the members of the Fighter's Guild I spoke with upon entering the Guild Hall, I went down to the training room into the basement of the building. Mats covered the majority of the floor and racks of weapons waited along the walls. The room had only two occupants, a man and a woman, both Imperial. The former had to be the Hasphat Antabolis I was looking for. He was a large, muscular man, with reddish-brown hair that was oiled back against his head. His companion examined a spear while the pair conversed. As soon as I crossed the threshold, however, both of them stopped talking and turned in my direction.

"Can we help you?" Antabolis asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Cosades sent me."

Turning to the woman, he said, "Flaenia, could you give us a minute?"

"Of course." Fitting her spear into one of the weapon racks, she left the room.

"So, you're with Caius, eh?" he said the moment the door shut behind her. "And I take it Caius wants information? What about this time?"

"The Sixth House and Nerevarine cults," I told him.

"Ah, yes. Of course, there's a this-for-that involved. I'll require a favor first."

"He warned me that you would."

"Good," he said, his mouth quirking into a smile. "There are Dwemer ruins nearby called Arkngthand. I need you to run over there and find me a little cube with a circular design and some symbols on one side. About the size of a fist, maybe a little bigger." He gestured with his hands as he spoke to illustrate. "It's called a 'Dwemer puzzle box'. Bring me back the box, and I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Just that?" I asked. The ruins of the Dwemer were fabled to contain all sorts of mysterious treasures. For _this_ to be the only thing he requested seemed more than a little odd.

"That's all I want; that little cube."

I was not about to press the issue. A fist-sized box shouldn't be too difficult to retrieve. Instead, I asked, "How do I get to this ruin, Arkngthand?"

"It's east of town, past the Odai River and Fort Moonmoth." He explained how to reach the entrance to the ruins from Balmora, finishing with, "The door will probably be sealed, but there should be a crank nearby to open the doors. And a word of warning before you go. Items of Dwemer design are prized by historians and antiquarians, and very valuable. The Emperor, however, has declared all newly discovered Dwemer artifacts to be possessions of the Crown, and forbids their trade or sale. Now smuggling these artifacts is treason. You understand exercising discretion would be best, yes?"

"I do."

* * *

The ruins of Arkngthand were exactly where Antabolis said they would be. Its dusty, brass-capped Dwemer towers rose up from the hills across the Foyada Mamaea. I walked up the trail that snaked up toward the entrance all the while on the lookout for the crank the Imperial had mentioned to me. As it turned out, I didn't need it. The double rounded stone plates that I assumed must normally seal off the entrance to the ruin were open just far enough for a person to fit through. Someone had gotten here before me. I carefully slipped between the plates and into the ruin beyond.

The entrance led into a large cavern decorated with cracked old pipes and lit with flickering torches. A thick, musty scent clouded the air as I walked, following a trail of old Dwemer bridges and natural rock outcroppings down toward the cave's floor. At first, all I heard was the sharp whistle of the wind coming in through the open front door. Then there were voices. I crouched low and peered down over the wall of the old bridge. Below, I saw two men seated perched atop short stacks of wooden crates. Judging by the state of their clothing, and the way one of them fingered the knife in his hands, these were decidedly bandits. Beyond them were two levels of Dwemer tunnels cut directly into the rock. Was the prize I sought in one of those crates, or further into the ruins?

A shadow against the bridge wall ahead shifted, and I saw that it was not a shadow at all, but a hooded figure dressed in dark clothing. She turned to look at me at the same time, and I recognized her as the pale, red-haired woman from the South Wall Cornerclub. Her eyes narrowed and she waved at me frantically.

"Get down," she hissed. "Or are you trying to get us caught?"

Keeping low, I hugged the wall until I reached her. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," the woman countered, "but I already know. There's only one reason folk are stupid enough to walk into a Dwemer ruin. You want something down here. Same as me. Same as them." She took a quick peek over the edge at the men before pulling back once more. "I'd already have gotten what I needed and gone, but I don't think I can get past the s'wits."

"Not alone, at least."

Her gray gaze was wary. "What do you mean?"

"I can help you get past the bandits. All I ask in return is that I take what I need from the ruin." I held out a hand to her. "Is it a deal?"

She briefly hesitated before shaking it. "It is."

I nodded. Letting go, I asked, "What do you know about the situation?"

"There's only two goons out here at the moment, but I think there's more deeper into the ruin. The upper level has some kind of side chamber." She carefully pointed across the cavern to illustrate. "I've seen their boss going in and out of there, so they might not have picked that part clean yet."

"Then that's where we will go."

I slipped away, making for the path down to the cavern floor. The woman muttered something that sounded like " _get me killed_ " under her breath as I assumed she followed behind me.

As I neared the bottom, I slowed and whispered, "Go right. I'll distract them."

I barely saw the woman slink away. Grabbing a bit of fist-sized rubble that lay nearby, I threw it in the opposite direction. It clattered against the wall and skittered off across the floor. The pair of bandits looked up, reaching for their weapons.

"Hold on, I'll check it out," one of them — an Imperial — said.

He got up from his crate and headed in the direction of the sound. I followed him. Now we were both out of sight of his companion.

At the sound of my footsteps behind him, he turned fast, his dagger at the ready. He laughed and shook his head.

"Oh, dear. Another poor, unfortunate traveler, come to a bad end."

I dodged his first swipe and twisted the dagger out of his hand. Shoving him up against the wall, I clamped a hand over his mouth and slid his knife between his ribs.

"I don't think so," I hissed. "Now be silent."

I waited until I saw the light drain from his eyes before carefully lowering him to the cave floor.

"Surus?" his companion called. "What was—"

He was cut off with a sharp gasp, then I heard the sound of a body hitting the floor. I rose and rounded the nearest stack of crates. The Redguard lay sprawled out on the ground and the red-haired woman stood over him, bloody dagger in hand. She shrugged and cleaned off the blade.

Together, we climbed up the pile of fallen boulders that served as the only path up to the upper level. A few pieces of broken Dwemer furniture lay scattered about. To our left was a closed, round door that must lead into the further chamber the woman mentioned. Nodding to her, I pulled the door open.

The room inside was filled with old, rickety shelves, yet more crates, and pipes along the middle of the room. A massive, bald Imperial man in battered armor was crouched near the room's entrance, examining a Dwemer cog. I drew my sword. He turned at the sound to face the two of us.

Getting to his feet, he grabbed an axe from its resting place against the pipes and said, "Ladies, you made a mistake coming here."

I knocked aside his first blow and struck. He was faster than he looked, however, and dodged the counterattack with ease before trying again. Meanwhile, the woman skirted around the blows shared back and forth between us, staying just out of the man's reach. He tried to share his focus between us, and I could see he wasn't sure who was the larger threat at the moment: me, with my forward attacks, or the second attacker moving to flank. In the end, he seemed to decide on her rather than me, and spun to face her, only for her to stab her dagger into his neck. She ripped it out again and jolted back to avoid the ensuing spray of blood. The Imperial grasped at his throat with one hand, trying to stem the flow, and made a swipe at her with his axe. She danced aside and backed further into the chamber. He tried to follow, only for him to fall to his knees and pitch over. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him and he moved no more.

"Glad that's over with," the woman muttered with disgust. "Let's grab what we came for and get out of here before his friends show up. What did you want for your cut?"

I looked around at the room. Dwemer items filled the shelves. Goblets encrusted in purple jewels, odd devices of gears and glass, and there, shoved near the back, was an old metal cube. Crouching down, I picked it up. It was just as Antabolis had described it to me. The sides were covered in lines and strange Dwemer symbols. Standing once more, I showed the cube to the woman.

"That's it?" she asked, cocking an eyebrow. I nodded and she let out a snort of laughter. "Take it. Nobody's going to miss one little box."

She reached into one of the bowls resting on a nearby table. Pulling out an octagonal, silvery coin, she held it up to inspect it in the torchlight.

"My name is Talise, by the way," I told her.

She looked away from the coin to my face, eyes narrowed once again. For a long time, she was silent.

"Mara," she eventually said, with a finality that told me she wanted the subject dropped.

Grabbing the bowl, coins and all, she stuffed it into her pack. One of the odd devices followed as well. After snatching up a few more items from the shelves and the crates, she nodded to me once and left the room. By the time I followed her back out into the entry cavern, she was gone.

* * *

I returned to Antabolis in the Fighter's Guild basement. Pulling the Dwemer cube out of my pack, I held it out to him and asked, "Was this what you wanted?"

"It is. Perfect." He took it from me and turned it over in his hands, examined the designs etched into it. "Look here, the inscriptions on it seem to be directions for setting a key to open a specific lock. Perhaps if I just…"

I cleared my throat and he shook his head.

"Right, yes. The information Caius asked for. If you'll give me a moment."

He left the room, Dwemer cube in hand, and returned again a few minutes later with a stack of papers. While rustling through them, he spoke to me again.

"You said he asked about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults, yes? House Dagoth is this Sixth House, the 'lost' Sixth House. The members betrayed the other Dunmeri Great House during the War of the First Council, and it was destroyed for their treason. I can answer any other questions you might have, but I'll also give you some notes to give to Caius, as well as a list of recommended references."

With that, he handed me most of the papers he now held. I gave them the barest glance before saying, "Cosades mentioned a Sixth House cult. What does that mean exactly?"

"I've heard rumors about a secret cult worshiping Dagoth Ur. The idea is that the Tribunal are false gods who have betrayed Morrowind to the Imperials. The cult plans to overthrow the Temple and drive out the Empire. It's outlawed by just about everyone, and I doubt it's popular. There's also apparently some connection to smuggling." He thought it over for a moment. "That they smuggle goods or hire smugglers. Something like that."

"Who is this 'Dagoth Ur' they're worshiping?"

"The leader of House Dagoth and the evil, immortal enemy of the Tribunal Temple. They blame him and his hosts for all the evils that beset Morrowind. He's supposed to dwell in the fiery caverns beneath Red Mountain, served by his kin and legions of monsters."

That was certainly a grim bit of news. If nothing else, it helped to explain the generally dour Dunmeri view of the world.

"I also have a few notes on the Nerevarine cult," Antabolis continued, handing me the last few sheets of paper, "but you should tell Caius that Sharn gra-Muzgob would be a better person to ask about native faiths and superstitions."

Tucking the papers under my arm, I said, "I will. Thank you."

I had only reached out for the door handle before he added, "Hold on. One last thing."

I turned back to face him.

"What someone like you really needs is a sense of current events," he told me. "Who hates who? Where's trouble brewing. That's where opportunity lies for outlanders like us. I'd look into it. Besides, I'm sure that's part of why Caius sent you my way in the first place."

I raised an eyebrow. "Was it? Why?"

"He says he's fed up with heroes. The Empire keeps sending them out here to the provinces to 'civilize' things." He let out a derisive snort of laughter. "So he sends you to me, probably hoping you'll be different than the others. Poor Caius. So many disappointments."

"He's skeptical, then?"

Antabolis nodded and sat down on a nearby bench. Resting his elbows against his knees, he leaned forward and explained, "Caius and I always argue over the role of the individual in history. Is the individual shaped and controlled by history, or can an exceptional individual shape it instead? I say Tiber Septim changed the world. Caius says that Tiber Septim was a product of his time, and if he hadn't lived, some other person would have served his function."

He paused and watched me with curious eyes. Then he asked. "What about you? Are you going to change the world? Or just be carried by the flow?"

"I—" I paused, taken aback. How was one supposed to answer a question like that? "I'm not sure."

"Well, I'd figure it out, if I were you. Your life might depend on it someday."


	4. Andrano

Caius Cosades set Antabolis' notes down on the table and rubbed his forehead. I stood nearby with my hands clasped behind my back, awaiting further orders.

"These cover the Sixth House admirably," Cosades finally said, "but not the Nerevarine cult."

"He said that someone named Sharn gra-Muzgob would be a better person to ask regarding the topic," I told him.

"And he'd be right, as far as I can tell. She's smart for an Orc. Has an unhealthy interest in the dark arts, perhaps, but very smart. She's always worried the Temple will bust in and stick her in a fire." He considered this for a moment before adding, "Probably for good reason."

"I take it you want me to go talk to her now?"

"I do. You'll find Sharn at the Mages Guild in town, which is located right next to the Fighters Guild."

I sighed. "Of course."

"Sorry about that. Knowing her, she'll probably have some errand or other for you to run as well. Do what she asks and report back to me once you've gotten the information."

When he waved me off, I left the house and crossed the river that cut through the middle of Balmora to reach the city's trade district. As Cosades had said, I found the Mages Guild directly beside the Fighters Guild. A sign painted with the Ritual Eye hung over the door. It swung back and forth in the light breeze as I stepped into the guild hall.

Inside, it was unlike its neighbor in every conceivable way. An acrid smell I couldn't place hung in the air and tapestries covered the walls. Mages in robes of all styles bustled back and forth down the hall. A pair of them — another Bosmer and a Khajiit — argued loudly as they pushed past me, heading for the building's upper level. I pressed on, searching for any sign of gra-Muzgob.

I finally found her in the large room downstairs. It was portioned off by large screens into rooms of sorts that served different functions. Teaching spaces, bunks, research areas, with a large planter in the very center. The Orsimer was in one of the segments on the left side of the chamber, reading a book and muttering to herself. Her brown hair was pulled up into a topknot with a silver ring.

"Excuse me, Sharn gra-Muzgob?" I began. "Caius Cosades sent—"

She rounded on me before I could finish my sentence and snapped, "No. _No_ interruptions! How many times…"

At that moment she stopped and blinked, as if only just understanding what I'd been saying.

"Oh. You're one of Caius' associates. That's a different matter." Closing her book, she asked, "How can I help you?"

"Cosades wants information on the Nerevarine cult," I explained. "And apparently you're the one to consult on the subject."

Gra-Muzgob nodded. "Caius and I have a very satisfactory arrangement, and I'm sure we can come to some sort of agreement here, if you will complete a little errand for me first."

Again, I was expecting this. "What sort of errand?"

"It's simple, really. I need the skull of Llevule Andrano."

How did Cosades find these people with their esoteric interests?

"Who was he?"

"No one special," she told me with a shrug. I got the impression from the shift of her eyes that this was not entirely true. "A journeyman enchanter, nothing more. You'll find it in the Andrano Ancestral Tomb. There may be many skulls inside, but you shouldn't have a problem recognizing Llevule's. It will be the one covered in ritual markings."

I didn't want to know what the skull was for, especially not after Cosades' comments about the Orsimer's " _fascination with the dark arts_." I assumed in this instance that he meant necromancy. Still, a deal was a deal, and I needed to obtain that information. The only way to do that was to get the skull with hopefully as few questions as possible.

"All right, how will I find this 'Ancestral Tomb'?" I asked her.

"It's south of Pelagiad, not far from the road. The entrance is cut into the hill and isn't hard to spot. But take care not to upset the natives when you go. The Dunmer have some _primitive_ prejudices against necromancy, and take grave objection to unauthorized tomb visits," she finished with a sniff.

"Keep it discreet. Understood."

* * *

 _I walked beside a tall figure. The arm that looped around mine was a dark, ashen gray. Where we were, I could not tell. I felt the presence of the ceiling high above us rather than saw it; it was too dark to make it out. The same was true of the walls. The chamber should have felt large and echoing, but instead it seemed to stifle. The air around us was heavy with an odd sort of perfume. At the same time, it was both musty and sickly-sweet. It hung as a sort of haze, sticking to my skin and causing my sight to blur at the edges. I found it hard to even breathe._

 _All around the two of us was a veritable horde of ghosts. Although I heard snatches of voices, none of them seemed to speak. They stared straight ahead with dead eyes. Their gaunt faces were tense, waiting. For what, I could not be sure. The masked figure led me through them. They parted for us, never once glancing in our direction. The further we walked, the more I got the impression of some sort of macabre wedding. A chill went down my spine at the thought._

 _The figure spoke to each and every spirit we passed by, lingering to speak with them, laughing as if in response to some unheard joke. His voice sounded muffled in my ears, as if heard from another room. Or perhaps from deep underwater. No matter how hard I strained, I could not make out his words. He did not seem to notice. I tried to speak then, but no sound escaped my mouth. I couldn't seem to breathe, nor could I pull my arm from the figure's grasp, despite my best efforts. At that moment the tall figure finally looked down at me, as though he could sense my attempts. I found myself face-to-face with a strange gilded mask that possessed three eyes._

 _Something in my mind began screaming at that moment. It begged me not to look. The haze at the edge of my vision turned to black and a shudder ran the length of my body. This was something I was_ not _supposed to see. But I couldn't tear my eyes away. Something about him felt familiar, so familiar, but at the same time wrong. Wracking my brain for why that was felt akin to grasping at smoke. No answers came to me._

 _The masked figure spoke again, to me this time. His deep voice was still an incomprehensible echo, but his tone had changed. He was no longer laughing. Instead, I heard something near confusion, which slowly built into anger as the moments passed and I still didn't understand the words he said. I tried to shake my head. Once again, my body would not comply._

 _"… don't understand…" I finally made out. "… should be enough… why… what keeps you…"_

 _He tried to touch my face with fingers that looked like claws. I flinched away and he drew his hand back once more. From behind that strange golden mask, I caught the glint of blood-red eyes._

 _"What have they done to you?" he asked._

I awoke with a gasp. My eyes darted all around, but I only saw the room I had rented at the inn. The Halfway Tavern in Pelagiad. Yes, I remembered now.

The first beginnings of dawn light came in through the window, dull and cold. I closed my eyes again and covered my face with my hands. What I saw felt _wrong_ in a way no nightmare of mine ever had before. That strange sort of deathlike perfume still filled my senses. The image of the golden-masked figure seemed burned onto the backs of my eyelids and would not go away, no matter how hard I pressed the heels of my hands against them. His words — the few I could make sense of, at least — still buzzed around inside my head, though they were beginning to fade. What was it that he'd said? It felt important now to remember, but it was slipping away from me too quickly. Curse it.

I sat up, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from my forehead, and got out of bed. The sooner I was gone, the sooner I hoped this uneasy feeling would ebb. I quickly dressed and gathered my things. After casting one last look around, I left and headed down the stairs to the inn's main room. This early, the room was dark and empty. The eerie quiet reminded me of all the ghosts I had seen waiting. I felt their melancholy longing echoing in my head. Shaking it to clear away the remnants of the dream, I opened the front door.

A thin layer of mist covered the ground when I left the inn. The town was lit in the gray-blue hue of dawn and the scent of damp grass hung in the air. Wrapping my scarf tighter to ward off the morning chill, I set off down the main street toward the road. I made it to the edge of town when I nearly bumped into an Imperial woman who walked into my path.

She waved off my apology. Her eyes — gray and unfocused — passed right over me. Long brown hair fell in uncombed tangles down her back and a shawl hung loose around her shoulders. As she kept shuffling past, the door to one of the nearby houses burst open and another woman rushed into the street. This one looked far less unkempt, though still harried. Her black hair was halfway pulled up into a knot at the back of her skull and she lifted the hem of her skirt to keep it from trailing in the mud as she ran.

"Juliana! Juliana get back here!"

She lunged past me, grabbing the other woman's arm. Then she said to me, "I'm so sorry. She's not really supposed to be out here by herself."

"I have to wait for them," Juliana cut in. "They'll be back soon."

"I've told you before, they aren't coming back. Now let's get back inside. It's still chilly out here."

"Who are you?"

"Ladia, remember? You've known me for five years." Juliana shook her head and Ladia sighed. Steering her toward the house, the latter went on, "I'll get you something warm to drink, all right? Just don't go wandering off again."

"But… my daughter…"

"Your daughter's fine. I promise you that."

The door shut again, in the process cutting off Juliana's reply. For a moment I just stood there. I slowly remembered what I was doing again. If I wanted to be back from the tomb before nightfall, I had to hurry. Burying my nose in my scarf, I kept walking.

* * *

From the outside at least, Andrano Tomb resembled the one Drulene Falen's bandits had used as their hideout. Its doorway was set into the side of the grassy hill, covered in shadows and flanked by unlit braziers. Though it took some effort, I managed to pull the stone door open and enter.

As was the case with the other tomb, the halls on the other side were pitch black. This time, however, I didn't have to worry about alerting bandits to my presence. I snapped my fingers and a magelight flared to life. It floated up to hover over my left shoulder, casting blue-white light on the stone walls and illuminating the flight of stairs below me. At the bottom lay a prone figure. Drawing my sword, I carefully descended to examine it.

The mer sprawled across the floor, face-down. Judging by the smell, he had been there a while. Another intruder to the tomb, perhaps? I skirted around the body and stepped into the tomb's first chamber. A shrine to some Morrowind saint stood in the far corner, flanked by altars holding burial urns. All around, I heard quiet whispering. It might have just been the wind, but I didn't think so. On the right side of the room was a closed door, while on the left was a long hallway winding further into the hillside. There was no way to know which would bring me closer to finding the skull.

In the end, I decided on the hallway. It was longer than I expected, curving down and around in a dizzying spiral. Partway down, a ghostly hand shot out of the wall to my left, grasping for my throat. I lurched back to avoid it, hitting the opposite wall. Its bony fingers clenched. Then the spirit pulled itself halfway out, revealing a skeletal form shrouded in billowing robes.

" _Get out_ ," it hissed.

Dodging its next swipe, I ran down the rest of the hall and down the short flight of stairs at its end. There was another burial chamber filled with shrines and urns. This one also had a couple of cremation pits filled with ashes. A door off of it led to another hallway, which in turn led to yet more chambers, as well as what appeared to be a small chapel. There was still no sign of the skull gra-Muzgob spoke of. Was it hidden somewhere? No, that wasn't it. If this Llevule Andrano was as important as she pretended he wasn't, the family would be displaying his skull. I just hadn't found the right room yet. Meanwhile, the whispering I'd heard from the walls before grew louder. The rest of the ancestral spirits were apparently growing restless as well. I had to keep going.

A few chambers later, I opened the next door and took a quick peek inside. I saw yet more urns, a mural across the back wall, and another cremation pit. Distracted by my haste to find what I needed before the encroaching spirits arrived, I nearly missed the skull resting on the edge of the pit. The door was nearly closed when I stopped myself. Pushing it open, I stepped into the room.

As the Orc had said, the skull of Llevule Andrano was indeed distinctive. The entire exterior surface of the bone was covered in strange, carved markings. Beside the skull was a dagger, perhaps the one used to create the designs. Its blade glittered in the glow of the magelight.

Sheathing my sword for a moment, I knelt down and picked up the skull to examine it more closely. It was old, very old, and seemed terribly delicate. Getting it back to Balmora intact would be a feat in itself. At least the puzzle box Antabolis asked for was solid enough.

"I'm sorry about this," I whispered. After getting back to my feet, I pulled the scarf from around my neck and used it to wrap up the skull.

In the hall behind me, I heard a horrible shriek. I turned to see ghosts peeling themselves out of the tomb's walls. Five, ten, a dozen. I couldn't count them all. They came at me, fingers grasping, exposed teeth gnashing.

" _Put him back!_ " they screamed at me. " _Outlander scum, put him back! Put him back!_ "

There wasn't time to draw my blade. Tucking the wrapped skull under my arm, I swept the other toward the first wave in a wide arc. As I did, it left a crackling purple trail of electricity in its wake. The ghosts it touched screamed and burst apart in a blast of mist. The sharp smell of ozone overpowered the scent of dust, decay, and old incense that had filled the air only moments before. Using their temporary distraction to my advantage, I cut down a few more of them to reach the hallway. Once I was past them, I ran, hoping I could still find my way out of the tomb.

The ghosts weren't distracted for long. I heard them follow me. Raspy cries of " _Put him back, put him back, put him back…_ " reverberated up the hallways. As fast as I ran, it wasn't fast enough. Their hands grasped at my hair, my arms, tugged at the scarf as they tried to retrieve their companion. I held fast. Ahead, I saw the decomposing body of the previous mer unlucky enough to have crossed the ancestral spirits. That meant the exit wasn't far.

Wrenching myself from my grasp and banishing a couple more with electricity, I made for the stairs. At the top, I saw a sliver of light. The door was still open a crack. I hurried up the steps and tried not to drop the wrapped skull. At the top, I shoved the stone door all the way open and stumbled outside.

I stood just on the other side of the threshold, gulping in breaths, and took a quick look back over my shoulder. The ghosts didn't follow. In fact, I saw nothing except darkness beyond the doorway. It was over. Glancing up, I saw that the sun had sunk low in the western horizon. Had I really spent that long searching the tomb? It hadn't felt like it. Still, I had what I came for.

Pulling the skull from its place under my arm, I checked it for any damage it might have taken during my escape. There was no sign of any cracks or serious chipping to it as far as I could tell. Wrapping it up again, I put it into my pack and headed off once again into the gathering dark, back toward Pelagiad.

* * *

When I returned to the Mages Guild, I waited until Sharn gra-Muzgob was alone before I approached. As I did, I pulled out the skull and unwrapped it enough for her to see.

"I got it," I told her. She beamed, showing off her large lower canines.

"Very good. I'll just take _that_ from you."

Snatching the skull from my hands, she went to a nearby chest. She unlocked it and began rearranging its contents. While she was busy, I carefully brushed the bone dust from the scarf and replaced it around my neck. She finally got the skull inside and closed the lid on it.

Getting back to her feet, she turned to me and said, "As I promised, I'll answer your questions on the Nerevarine cult. Go ahead."

"First of all, what is it?" I asked. "I've only heard it mentioned in passing once or twice."

She snorted. "Well, that's easy enough. It's an Ashlander cult that believes the long-dead hero Nerevar will be reborn to honor ancient promises made to the tribes. According to legend, the prophesized Nerevarine — this supposed reincarnation — will cast down the false gods of the Tribunal Temple, restore traditional ancestor worship, and drive all outlanders from Morrowind. Both the Temple and the Empire have outlawed the cult, but the Ashlanders care little for the laws of either. Here, let me write this all down for you to take back to Caius."

Rummaging around the shelf behind her, she extracted a stack of paper, a bottle of ink, and a quill pen. Taking them to a nearby table, she sat down and furiously began to scribble down the information. She continued to speak as she wrote.

"The Temple refers to anyone who claims to be the Nerevarine as the 'False Incarnates'," she went on. "They treat such persons as insane, and Ordinators pursue and imprison them 'for their own protection', as they put it. The most recent case was a girl named Peakstar. The Temple recently reported that she was dead. That may be true, but I haven't heard that they have produced any convincing proof of this."

Setting the pen back in the inkwell, she stacked the notes and held them out to me. "All right. Take these notes to Caius. They should give him what he wants to know."

I stared at them. "Is that all?"

"Is that _all?_ " she asked, clearly affronted. "Did you miss the part where I told you this is an 'illegal cult'? Information of any kind is nigh impossible to get, and this is what I have. Take it and be happy."

There was nothing else to be done for it, it seemed. I took the notes from her with a nod and left the room.

Outside the Mages Guild the street was crowded with people walking from shop to shop. I wove my way between them, heading for the river. Despite not actually being much, Cosades needed what information gra-Muzgob had to give.

"Talise."

I stopped. The voice wasn't familiar to me. Despite this, it wasn't hard to find the source. A Dunmer walked up the street in my direction, dressed in workman's clothing with his pale hair tied back. He didn't seem to notice the others around him as he pushed his way through the crowd. His eyes were only on me.

"Can I help you?" I asked in an even voice. My fingers inched up toward the hilt of my sword.

The mer's hand shot out, grabbing my arm and hauling me toward him. Then he whispered into my ear, "Take what you can and leave this place. He sleeps, but when he wakes we shall rise from our dreams and sweep our land clean. This will be no place for you then."

I tried to wrench myself from his grasp, but he didn't budge.

"Let go of me."

The mer regarded me with a detached sort of agitation as he went on, "Why have you denied him? You _cannot_ deny your Lord, Dagoth Ur. As he has said, 'All shall greet him as flesh, or as dust'."

"I said _let go_." I sent a jolt of energy through my arm, shocking his hand. He staggered backward and bared his teeth at me.

All around, the crowd had started to notice what was happening. People pointed at us or took hasty steps away. I thought I saw a guard approaching. To say this was all spiraling out of control was an understatement. I could _not_ be interrogated at the moment, especially not with notes regarding an illegal cult stored in my pack. I took a few steps backward and looked for a way out. Not far away was a street leading down toward the river. That would do.

"The Sixth House is risen, outlander," the Dunmer hissed, "and Dagoth is its glory."

Before the guards could reach us, I turned and slipped away through the crowd. A few people shouted after me, but no one was able to stop me.

My pace slowed as I reached the end of the second street and approached the waterfront. The frantic beat of my heart slowed as well. Once I reached the nearest bridge to the other side of the city, I started to try to puzzle out what happened.

A mer accosted me in the street, spouting nonsense about the Sixth House. The Dunmer Great House Cosades had sent me to find information for, the one that was supposed to be extinct. In his odd speech, the mer had said something about the Sixth House being "risen". Risen _how?_ And why? Was that mer part of the cult Antabolis told me about? He had also mentioned the monster Dagoth Ur, who the cult worshiped, so it seemed likely. Antabolis had also said that he didn't think the cult was very popular. If that was true, what did this all mean?

Then there was that strange dream I just couldn't seem to shake. In isolation, neither seemed important, but together it seemed to be an eerie coincidence. If it was one at all. What did it all mean?

I was so lost in thought that I barely realized that I'd reached Caius Cosades' door until it opened, revealing the man standing on the other side.

"Talise? I take it you have what I sent you after."

"I do, sir."

I stepped around him into the tiny house, set my pack down on the table, and pulled out the stack of papers. After straightening them out, I handed them to him.

"Excellent," he said, skimming the top page. "I'm promoting you to Blades Apprentice, effective immediately. And here's a present." Without looking up, he grabbed two scrolls from the table and held them out to me. "Divine intervention. They're rare, but I think they might come in handy for you at some point."

I took them from him and was about to put them in my pack as well, but I hesitated. Cosades had sat down at the table and started to flip through the notes. Now was as good a time as any to bring up what had happened. I took a deep breath.

"Sir."

Cosades waved a hand at me, effectively cutting off what I was about to tell him as he said, "No, no, Talise. No thanks needed. You're doing good work. Now, get out of here and let me read."

I didn't move. After a few moments he seemed to notice this.

"You're still here," he said with a frown. I nodded. Setting the latest page down again, he asked, "What's on your mind?"

"A mer accosted me in the trade district just now, saying things about Dagoth Ur and the Sixth House," I told him.

"Unfortunate, but not really something to get worked up about. They do have a cult, if you recall. I know Hasphat gave you the gist of it."

"That's not all."

Cosades raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"When I was on the road, fulfilling gra-Muzgob's errand, I had an… odd dream," I explained slowly. Tugging on my ear, I thought about how best to relay what I had seen "There was a tall mer in a golden mask and legions of spirits all around. It was as if I was dead myself."

"You're not going loopy on me, are you, Talise?"

I stopped, taken aback. "What are you talking about?"

"Look," he said, sighing and rubbing his forehead, "in Morrowind, if you have strange dreams, the Temple says you're crazy and they want to lock you up. If you have strange dreams, and think they _mean_ something, the Temple thinks you're a prophet or a witch. And, again, they want to lock you up. So take my advice and keep a lid on it. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good. Now, I've got notes to read, and I'm sure you have better things to do than wait around here all day."

Just like that, it was over, and what he had said left me with far more questions than answers.


	5. Informants

"Vivec City ahead!"

At the sound of the caravaner's call, I started forward, crawling past a few of the other passengers to see around the edge of the awning.

Lights shone across the water, illuminating the massive square cantons that rose up from the surface of the bay. Each was tiered, interconnected with a series of bridges, and topped with a glittering glass dome. More lights, these belonging to small boats, passed along the canals between them. Even from this distance, I could see people bustling to and fro on the different layers of the cantons. There it was, a beautiful, floating marvel of a city. I lived in the Imperial City for a long time, with the White-Gold Tower at its heart rising like an ivory spire over the landscape, but it was nothing like what I saw at that moment.

The silt strider let out a loud howl as the caravaner steered it into place alongside the port. Once the gangway was in place, the passengers began to leave the compartment. I was one of the first off the creature. Following behind the few ahead of me, I descended the port tower's interior stairs and exited onto the road. Not far from where I stood, a wide stone bridge led the way into the closest of the city's floating cantons. Along with most of the others coming from the silt strider — those not waiting for their larger items to be unloaded, at least — I walked toward it.

The moment I crossed the bridge, I stopped near the closest of the lanterns lighting the pathway encircling the canton's exterior. Caius Cosades had sent me to Vivec City after three new informants that were supposed to be there. Once again, I was meant to ask about the Nerevarine and the Sixth House cults. I pulled out the note he'd written me summarizing the mission and looked it over again.

 _Huleeya is an Argonian and a Morag Tong assassin. Look for him in the Foreign Quarter at the Black Shalk Cornerclub. He's known around Vivec City as a lover of books and old things._

There was a massive plaque, or a sign of sorts, on the wall nearby written in Daedric script. I had found most signage was, particularly in more heavily-Dunmer areas, necessitating that I should learn to read it. This particular sign read _Foreign Quarter Canton._ At least I was in the right place to find this Argonian. The next step was to locate the cornerclub Cosades mentioned in his note. Plenty of people bustled about the pathway; any one of them could probably point me in the right direction.

A hand grabbed my arm and spun me around. I clutched the letter so tight it began to crumple. A face flashed gold in the light and—

"Do your ears work, outlander?"

I shook my head. "I… sorry?"

A mer wearing a decorative full-face helm loomed over me. The rest of his armor — all in blue and gold — was nearly as ostentatious. His hand was still clamped around my upper arm. From behind the false face of the helmet, I heard him give a sniff of disgust before saying, "I _said_ move along. Let's not make this official, shall we?"

He let go of my arm, half-pushing me away as he did. Hastily folding up the letter, I complied, slipping away into the crowd. The armored mer's gaze never left me.

Once I thought I was far enough away from him, I asked others on the pathway for the location of the cornerclub. What directions I managed to get led me up the stairs to the middle tier of the canton and inside, into what the residents had called the "waistworks". This turned out to be a series of intersecting corridors surrounding a central, two floor court. Flags of the Imperial Dragon sigil hung from the walls. Intricate mosaics covered the ceilings, their tiles glittering in the light of the paper lanterns. Doors off of the side hallways led into various businesses. At the end of one of these halls eye found a door outside of which hung a sign proclaiming it to be the _Black Shalk Cornerclub._ I stepped inside.

The main area of the bar, along with the handful of small side rooms, were packed with what seemed to be locals. They all sat huddled around candlelit wooden tables, hunched over their mugs as they talked. The shadows in the room were deep and the air buzzed with conversation. It didn't take long to notice that there was only one Argonian on the premises. Huleeya was dressed in dark clothing accented with bits of netch leather. Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, he surveyed the room through narrowed, reptilian eyes. I wove my way through the crowd.

"Cosades sent me to speak with you," I said once I reached him.

"Ah, a friend of my friend. I would, of course, but I am preoccupied with my own affairs at the moment."

He nodded lightly to a nearby table. I looked to see the three Dunmer sitting around it were glaring at him.

"These troublesome fools are preventing me from moving from this spot, let alone leaving the cornerclub. I have tried to talk my way out, but apparently the sight of a free Argonian _offends_ them," Huleeya said, his lip curling to reveal the edges of his sharp teeth. "It would tarnish my guild's honor to slay them, and I don't want to trouble my friend Saralis by fighting in his club, but I fear there will be violence regardless."

"So what do you want to do about it?" I asked him.

He drummed his clawed fingers against his arm as he considered this. "My friend, Jobasha, has a bookstore not far from here. If you go with me, I will answer whatever questions you have. First, I would suggest you try speaking with the fools. Perhaps you will have more luck than I did."

That didn't seem likely to me, but it wasn't as if we had any other option. Stepping away from the wall, I made my way over to their table.

Before I could utter a word, the one in the middle snapped, "What makes you think I want to talk to you? I saw you with that damn lizard."

Ignoring this, I said, "He isn't worth your time. If you let me take him out of here, we'll go, and you won't have to look at him anymore."

"Keep talking and I'll pop your head off and feed it to the filthy lizard," he told me with a sneer. The two mer sitting beside him snickered.

Nothing I could say would make any sort of difference, it seemed. Reaching into my purse, I pulled out a short stack of coins and set them down on the worn tabletop. "What about now?"

The other two thugs looked to their leader, whose red eyes flicked between me and the gold in front of him. For a few moments he said nothing. I knew by the glint in those eyes, however, that I had already won.

"Fine. You made your point. Take him to Oblivion, for all I care." Snatching up the coins, he jerked his head toward the door. "Now get out of here before I change my mind."

I gestured to Huleeya. He pushed off the wall and headed over. Then the two of us made our way back out of the cornerclub and outside. Once the door had shut behind us, he took the lead. I followed him to the other side of the canton to another store. Its sign read _Jobasha's Rare Books_. Huleeya rapped his knuckles against the wood.

" _The store is closed!_ " a voice called out from the other side.

"It's me, Jobasha," the Argonian replied.

I heard a lock click. The door opened to reveal a Khajiit standing on the other side.

"Huleeya, this one was not expecting you," he said. Turning to me, he asked, "And who is this?"

When Huleeya looked at me as well, I said, "Talise."

"She's a friend," Huleeya told him. "We need somewhere to talk."

"Of course. Come."

Jobasha ushered us inside. I followed the two of them through a room tightly packed with bookcases, down the stairs, and into another book-filled room. At the back was a table covered in an assortment of books and dishes, a candle, and a single potted plant. Jobasha cleared it of everything save the candle.

Still holding the plant, he turned to us and said, "This one will be upstairs if you need him."

"Thank you, Jobasha," Huleeya told him. The shop owner, already walking back toward the stairs, just waved a dismissive hand as he left the room. With him gone, the Argonian took a seat at the table and indicated that I should take the one opposite. As I did, he said, "We should be free from any more distractions here. Now, I promised I would answer your questions. What do you need to know?"

"Cosades has me after information on the Sixth House and the Nerevarine cults."

Huleeya rubbed his chin with a frown. "I'm afraid I know nothing about a cult for the Sixth House. House Dagoth was the Sixth of the Dunmer Great Houses until were destroyed for their treason during the War of the First Council. I've never heard of anyone worshiping them. Dagoth Ur — the ancient head of the House — is regarded as the Devil of the Tribunal faith, but I've never heard of anyone worshiping him, either. The Nerevarine Cult, however, I can help you with. How much do you know already?"

"Not much. It's an Ashlander cult regarding the return of an ancient Dunmeri hero, which is outlawed by the Temple."

"Those are the basics, yes, but it's also far more complicated than that. To truly understand the cult, you must understand the history of the Ashlanders. Nerevar means something _very_ different to them than what he does to the Dunmer of the Great Houses." He leaned forward, steepled his hands, and continued, "In the First Era, the Ashlanders and the settled Dunmer clans were alike, but after the formation of the Great Houses, the former have been steadily forced into the poorest and most hostile lands. Now they look to the prophesied return of Nerevar for a restoration of their ancient rights."

"What rights?" I asked him.

In an even quieter voice, he explained, "You see, when they joined Nerevar in the Battle of Red Mountain, he swore on his ring, One-Clan-Under-Moon-and-Star, to honor the ways of the Spirits and the rights of the land. After the victory, the Ashlanders say the Tribunal slew Nerevar in secret and set themselves up as gods. They, along with the Great Houses, forgot the promises to the tribes."

"So that's why they think he'll return? To make good on his promises?"

"Precisely. As you can perhaps guess, this is why the Temple treats the cult and its prophecies as heresy. They imprison and execute heretics unless prevented from doing so by Imperial law, but, since the Nerevarine cult is hostile to the Empire, the Empire does not interfere in this matter."

"I heard there were people who claimed to be this reincarnation in the past, ones who were executed by the Temple," I said. "The last was named… Peakstar, I think."

"Peakstar, yes. She was the latest in a long line before her. The Temple says these false Incarnates disprove the prophecies, since they all fail and come to noting. The cult, on the other hand, glorifies rather than shrinks from these contradictions. They cite the appearance of the "failed Incarnates" as certain proof of Nerevar's coming rebirth."

"You keep mentioning prophecies. What are they?"

"Mostly lost, unfortunately. Prophecies and dream-visions are a respected tradition in Ashlander culture, passed on by wise women to their successors. A few of the major Nerevarine cult prophecies have been lost to tribal memory due to carelessness on the part of earlier generations, though one might wonder whether they were forgotten deliberately or suppressed."

"It wouldn't surprise me, with everything else I've heard," I admitted.

Huleeya gave a small shrug and went on, "There were three in particular that have been noted as missing. Perhaps these lost prophecies will be found someday, or perhaps not. Who knows? Stranger things have happened."

First gra-Muzgob's information seemed woefully incomplete, then Huleeya's. One had to wonder if Cosades was actually getting anything useful out of all of this. Probably not, judging by the fact that he kept sending me out to dredge up what bits of knowledge I could. Still, he wanted the information, and I would get it for him regardless of how futile it appeared.

"If it's possible, could you write down what you told me?" I asked the Argonian. "I need to take it back to Cosades."

"Of course. I'm sure Jobasha has paper I can use around here."

It didn't take him long to locate some. Once he finished and the ink had dried, I took them from them and carefully stored them in my pack. All these notes about strange cults for Cosades. By the time I was done, the man could very well be drowning in them. I got up from the seat, nodded to Huleeya, and made my way toward the stairs leading back up to the main floor of the bookstore.

"If I may ask," he called after me, "why is Caius sending you out after this information? It's all mystery cults and superstition."

I stopped with my foot on the bottom step and looked back over my shoulder at him. "I'm just the messenger, Huleeya. Your guess as to his motives is as good as mine."

* * *

Cosades' letter led me to St. Olms Canton the next day to find the second informant. Addhiranirr, a Khajiit and a member of the Thieves Guild.

" _She won't be easy to find,_ " he'd said in the letter, " _but ask around in St. Olms Canton. Folks are easily offended there; be careful what you say. A little courtesy, a little coin, a little favor in the right place will get you in touch with her._ "

St. Olms was on the other side of Vivec City, so I'd taken one of the gondolas from the Foreign Quarter, passing under the bridges hung with stories-high banners covered in religious sayings. As Cosades had said, getting anything out of the people in the canton took a great deal of effort. It was late into the afternoon by the time I finally tracked down a Dunmer named Adaves who supposedly knew where she was.

But this mer wouldn't make it easy either, it seemed.

"Addhiranirr? Never heard of her," he said when I mentioned her name. "Nope. Absolutely certain. Never heard the name before."

He started to push past me, but stopped at the septims I held under his nose, practically going cross-eyed as he stared at them.

"Are you sure?" I asked him.

"Oh. _Addhiranirr_. Maybe that name does sound a little familiar. For some reason, I just can't seem to remember."

He grinned at me, showing off a mouth of yellowed teeth. I raised my eyebrows and closed my hand on the gold. As I'd expected, that seemed to do the trick.

"Okay, fine," he said with a deep sigh. "I know Addhiranirr. And, if I know her, she'll be staying out of sight as long as the Census and Excise agent is lurking about. She's probably down in the underworks — the canton's sewers. Look for trapdoors down from the canalworks level. Shouldn't be too hard to get in there."

"Thank you," I said, dropping the promised coin into his waiting hands. Once they were in his grasp he hurried away.

Following his instructions, I took the stairs down from the middle section of the waistworks. Before I could reach the passage leading down into the canalworks, a well-dressed Imperial man approached me, saying, "Hold on a moment, if you please."

When I stopped and turned back to face him, he continued, "I'm looking for a friend of mine, a Khajiit named Addhiraniir. Do you know where I can find her?"

Another person in the canton looking for my informant. He had to be the Census and Excise agent Adaves mentioned. It wasn't difficult to imagine why he would be looking for someone who supposedly worked for the Thieves Guild. It also wasn't difficult to imagine that, if he found her first, I wouldn't be able to have my own talk with her.

"I saw a Khajiiti woman taking a gondola from the canton not long ago," I told him. "I assume she was going back to the mainland."

The man sighed and shook his head ruefully. "What a disappointment. But thank you for your time. I was just heading back myself, anyway. Maybe I'll run into her there."

He nodded to me once and left, walking up the set of stairs that I had just descended moments earlier. Once I thought he was gone, I continued further down into the canalworks.

There it was nearly impossible to hear anything over the roar of rushing water; drains, presumably from the canals, ran along the walls to either side of me as I walked. This deep into the canton, the clothing of the few people milling about tended to run far more ragged. Not far away, I noticed a Khajiit displaying the telltale signs of skooma withdrawal.

It wasn't hard to find one of the trapdoors Adaves told me about. When I tested it, it wasn't locked, but the hinges creaked horribly. Gritting my teeth at the sound, I looked down into the hole to see a ladder leading down into the dark sewer below. There was no sense in wasting any more time. I climbed down the ladder, closing the trapdoor again behind me as I descended.

The foul scent of sewage was nearly overpowering there. I hopped down from the ladder, landing on a walkway that ran along the edge of the tunnel. It was so dark that I could barely see my surroundings. After covering my mouth and nose with my scarf to block out as much of the smell as I could — although it didn't help much — I cast a magelight. As the orb flared to life, I heard _something_ scurry away back into the shadows. I tried not to think too hard about what might be lurking just out of sight as I kept walking.

It took a few minutes of searching down side tunnels for her. At the back of one of the major canal passages, I found a lone Khajiit sitting on a battered crate, one clawed finger tapping an anxious rhythm against the side. A flickering lantern sat on the stone floor at her feet. As I approached, she turned her head sharply, making her long earrings clink together. When she drew a dagger from her belt, I stopped.

"Who are you?" she hissed.

"Talise," I explained, holding up my hands to show I meant no ill. "I'm a friend of Caius Cosades. He wanted me to talk to you about the Nerevarine and Sixth House cults."

She scoffed and turned her dagger about in her hands. "Great. So Caius says to you, 'Speak with Addhiranirr.' And you have done this thing. You are speaking with Addhiranirr. But Addhiranirr will not talk to you about either of these things, and because why? Because Addhiranirr is, at this moment, _very_ distracted by a nice Census and Excise agent, who also wants to speak with her."

"He's gone. If he's not already on a boat back to the mainland, he's at least been turned around for a while."

That certainly caught her attention. She carefully slid her dagger back into its sheath and cocked her head to the side.

"Indeed? This one does not ask you how you did this trick, because Addhiranirr does not want to know. But now Addhiranirr would be very happy to tell a friend of my good friend Caius all about the Sixth House cult."

"Not the Nerevarine cult?" I asked.

"Addhiranirr knows nothing about the Nerevarine cult because it is just silly superstition." She sniffed and added, "Nobody in her right mind pays any attention to this nonsense. Prophecies and ancient heroes reborn and other silliness. Fuzzy tales for little kitties. You tell Caius this."

"I will. And what about the Sixth House?"

The Khajiit grinned in a conspiratorial way and said, "This Addhiranirr knows about, because it is about smuggling. Some smart smugglers are suddenly too busy for their old clients, because they have a new employer: the Sixth House, who pays _very_ well."

"What is it that they smuggle for them?"

"This one does not know," Addhiranirr replied with a shrug. "They are very secret. And this is odd, because these smugglers are always loud and bragging, and now they hush up like fat-bellied kitties full of sweet-meats."

Odd indeed. Antabolis had mentioned a connection between the cult and smuggling as well. What could they possibly be hiring these smugglers to transport that made them go so quiet? No one seemed to have a clue. At the moment, we seemed to barely be inching along toward an answer, whatever that answer might be.

* * *

 _I stood alone in a chamber with rough stone walls. The only light came from red, dripping candles resting on various outcroppings around me. They cast an odd, bloody sort of hue on everything nearby. Beyond them was nothing but deep shadows. I heard no sound at first. Not the distant drip of water, nor the crackle of the flames, nor the sound of my own breathing. The longer I stood there, the more I thought I saw lights in the distance. Other pockets such as the one I was in._

 _"There are many rooms in the house of the Master," a deep voice said from behind me._

 _I turned fast to find myself facing the tall mer in the gilded mask. My mind screamed in pain once more and my vision swam. On instinct, I took a step backward._

 _"Be easy," the mer said with a laugh, extending his hand to me. "For from the hands of your enemies I have delivered you."_

 _I watched the clawed hand he offered with wary eyes, making no move to take it. When he seemed to have waited long enough, he retracted it and gestured to the dark tunnel behind him._

 _"Come. There is something you must see."_

 _He turned and stepped into the shadows, which swirled around him like mist. At first, I didn't want to follow. I wanted to ask who he was, where I was, what was happening. The more I thought about it, the more familiar his voice seemed. I'd heard it before, outside of my dreams, but where? I couldn't quite seem to remember. Once again, however, no sound came from my lips._

 _The light around me dimmed. Looking back, I saw that the shadows were beginning to swallow up the candles as well, threatening to plunge me into total darkness. With no other choice, I followed the masked figure._

 _At the very end of the tunnel he stopped and stepped aside, revealing a stone table adorned with more of those strange red candles. Resting atop it was a body. The figure motioned me toward it. I complied, taking a few cautious steps forward. It was then that I realized that the_ _body laid out before me was mine. How was that possible? As I bent over the corpse to examine it, the part of me that felt like it had been steadily pounding its way out of my skull since the masked figure appeared erupted in a fresh bout of agony, stronger than before. My vision darkened and I had to lean against the table to remain standing. What was this? I leaned in closer, trying to see through the haze._

 _"Don't," a new voice said to me. It was a woman's this time. Familiar somehow, and spoken from far away. "It's too soon."_

 _Too soon for what? What was I not meant to see? The body was mine. I knew it was mine… though how could it be if I was standing above it as well? None of what was happening made any sense. With a shaking hand, I reached out to touch its face._

 _Its eyes opened wide. I jolted back in shock as it —_ I _— sat up. Rising from the stone table, I stood tall over myself. That wasn't right, was it? My mind whirled with equal measures pain and confusion as I tried to comprehend, to even make the barest bit of sense of the thing that stood before me. What was I seeing?_ What was I seeing?

 _A clawed hand came to rest on my shoulder as the figure in the mask, whom I had almost forgotten was still there, whispered into my ear, "Behold the truth."_

 _The tunnel vanished and a brilliant light flared to life around me with a roar like a hurricane._

I awoke, ears still ringing. Another dream. One that was once again haunted by that strange mer in the gilded mask. This one felt different than the last, however. For one, I'd been able to make out all of what the figure had said. Not that the words held any meaning for me. He'd spoken of enemies, of some sort of truth I needed to witness. What that was, I had no idea. All I had seen was my own body laid out before me.

Then there was the masked figure himself. In the dream, I'd been so sure I knew his voice. Even awake, staring up at the ceiling and wracking my brain, I was still no closer to placing it. It seemed important that I should remember. I felt so close, like if I just tried a little harder a name would come to me, but there was nothing. My throat felt tight for reasons I could not begin to name and something rolled down the side of my face. When I reached a hand up to feel what it was, my fingertips came away wet. I stared at the droplets. Was I crying?

I'd been right about the dream being different. It was worse. I sat up and hastily swiped at my eyes to clear them.

Without a tavern in St. Olms, I'd needed to travel to the Redoran canton for the night after leaving the underworks. I'd gotten a room for the night at the cornerclub there — _The Flowers of Gold_. After gathering my things together, I stepped back out into the main room of the inn. Pots filled with the gold kanet flowers the establishment was named for covered the tables. Behind the bar, the owner nodded to me. The atmosphere became considerably clearer in the canton than most other places in Vvardenfell once the residents realized I was also a member of House Redoran. The benefit of belonging to one of the Great Houses, I supposed.

I ordered breakfast — some sort of spiced hash made from local ingredients — and ate quickly. There was still one more informant in the city that Cosades wanted me to speak with. Mehra Milo, a priestess of the Temple. Unlike with Huleeya and Addhiranirr, he'd been _very_ particular about how I should approach her. I was supposed to ask no one at the Hall of Wisdom and Justice about her; drawing attention to the fact that she was speaking with an outlander on religious matters would only arouse dangerous suspicion. Still, he'd told me that she worked in the library and given me a basic description. Copper hair, copper eyes. That was better than going off of nothing.

When I finally left _The Flowers of Gold_ , stepping out into the waistworks, I nearly bumped into one of those golden-armored guards that patrolled the city. Ordinators, I'd heard them called.

"Watch yourself, outlander," he snapped.

I'd seen them all around the city, but only now that I was as close as I was did I realize that staring up at his full-face helmet was like looking into a mirror. How had I not noticed before?

Only when he turned away again did I realize that the face depicted on that helmet was not mine.


	6. Progress

The canton dedicated to the Tribunal Temple was at the far end of the city, on the other side of St. Olms and St. Delyn. Unlike the others, it only had two tiers. Atop it was a plaza filled with shrines and fountains. In the very middle of all that stood a large building. Overhead, casting a shadow over everything, was a massive rock nearly as big as the canton itself. I looked up at it as I crossed the bridge, wondering why in the world the thing would be suspended over the city. Encircling the stone were wooden platforms. I thought I saw people walking about on them, but it was too high for me to be sure.

I stopped once I was on the canton to ask for directions. Mindful of what Cosades had said, I didn't mention Milo's name. He had, however, mentioned that she worked in the Temple library, which was apparently open to the public. It would have to be enough of a compromise. The directions I finally received led me to the eastern side of the canton's middle tier, into the Hall of Wisdom. Inside, I found a long hall lined with various offices. As I walked, I passed by several priests. None of them matched Cosades' description. I kept walking, ascending the stairs partway down the corridor that led up to the library.

The door at the top led out into a large room filled with row upon row of bookcases. Large tomes rested, open, upon ornate stands. Here and there were large planters full of local flora and luminescent mushrooms. There weren't many others in the library at the moment. Most perused the shelves or sat reading at the handful of tables. A couple of Ordinators patrolled the edges of the room. I slipped into one of the rows, keeping an eye on them as I searched for Milo.

Nearby, a Dunmer dressed in the blue robes of the Temple priests was replacing books onto the shelves from the basket in her hands. Her chin-length hair was the color of burnished copper. Just as Cosades had said in his description.

Pretending to examine the books on the shelf next to her, I asked in an undertone, "Are you Mehra Milo?"

She stopped. "Who are you?"

"Talise. Caius Cosades sent me."

"We can't talk here." Sliding the next book into place she said, "I fear I'm being watched by the Ordinators. Wait a moment, then follow me into the back of the library."

Milo left. I waited, pulling a book from the shelf and pretending to read it while counting down in my head. Once I thought I had waited long enough, I put the book back and headed for the other side of the library. There was another, smaller section there, this one totally abandoned except for the priestess at the end of one of the rows near the back wall.

After looking past me, probably to make sure neither of us were followed, she asked, "What do you need?"

"Cosades sent me to ask about the Sixth House and Nerevarine cults," I explained. She pursed her lips and thought it over.

"I'm afraid I don't know anything about any 'Sixth House' cult," she began, "but I can tell you about the latter."

"Go ahead."

Taking a deep breath, the priestess told me, "The Temple worships Nerevar as a saint and hero, but prophecies of his reincarnation are punished as wicked heresy. The cult claims the Tribunal are false gods, hence the Temple's persecution of them."

She stopped and I sensed she was worried about whatever it was she would say next. I raised an eyebrow.

"A group called the Dissident Priests disputes Temple doctrine on the Nerevarine prophecies," she explained in a whisper. "The proscribed book 'Progress of Truth' describes their beliefs. Get a copy for Caius, if you can. That will tell him the things he needs to know. We have a copy here, but it's in the restricted access section. A safer plan would be to search booksellers. The Temple has outlawed the sale or possession of the book, but some ignore Temple bans on outlawed books for profits or for principles."

I had an idea of where to look. Making a mental note to go there after I left the library, I asked Milo, "What is it that these 'Dissident Priests' are saying?"

"In brief, they challenge the purity and divinity of the Tribunal, suggesting their powers are sorcerous, not divine, and perhaps akin to the power of Dagoth Ur. They also condemn the arbitrary power of the Ordinators and accuse the Temple hierarchy of self-interest and corruption."

"This is why these priests are being persecuted? Because they challenge the hierarchy?"

"Not only that. Attacks on the Temple weaken the faith and leave people defenseless against the influence of Dagoth Ur. Faith is what strengthens the will of the believer against his lies. Faith is the source of the divine power that sustains the Tribunal in their battle with him. Since the Empire, some Dunmer have turned away from the Temple; that's why Dagoth Ur grows stronger, why blight storms and monsters threaten the land."

"Do you believe that?" I asked her.

Milo brushed back a few strands of hair and looked around, as if expecting the Ordinators to materialize at any moment.

"I do not care for Temple politics," she said, even quieter this time. "But I _have_ read 'Progress of Truth,' and it troubles me. I have friends, former priests, who have gone into hiding, so I am bound to come to the attention of the Ordinators. I am careful, but I'm afraid. I'm no secret agent, like you or Caius. Sooner or later I, too, must go into hiding. If it is not too late already. When you return to Caius, tell him I am worried. And say that, if something goes wrong, I will leave a message under the agreed code word 'amaya'."

"I'll tell him."

She nodded. Adjusting her grip on the mostly-empty basket of books in her arms, she started to walk away again.

"Wait," I said. "I have one last question, perhaps unrelated."

The priestess stopped and turned back to look at me. "Of course."

"Whose face is on the helmets of the Ordinators?"

"Saint Nerevar's, of course," she said, bemused. "They were modeled after his deathmask."

With that, she was gone. I stood alone, staring at the space where she had just been, trying to process what she had just told me. Nerevar's face. A chill ran down my spine. I forced myself to start walking. At that moment, I couldn't afford to be having those thoughts. Not while in the heart of the Tribunal Temple. Whatever this was, it would have to wait.

* * *

Jobasha's bookstore was still open when I arrived. Stepping inside, I saw the Khajiit wrapping up a book for the only other customer in the place. He looked up from his work and caught my eye. I nodded once to him and turned to peruse the shelves. There was no sign of the book I was looking for. Then again I assumed that, if he _did_ have a copy, he wouldn't exactly keep it out where just anyone could find it. Milo had said the book was banned by the Temple, after all.

Once the customer left with their purchase, Jobasha came over to meet me.

"What can this one help you with?" he asked me.

"I'm looking for a book," I began. "A rare one, maybe even a dangerous one."

"That is Jobasha's specialty. May he ask the title?"

"The 'Progress of Truth'."

The Khajiit looked me over with cautious eyes. All he said was, "The Temple does not like this particular book."

"Do you have it?"

"For just anyone, no. But for a friend of Huleeya? Of course." He beckoned to me with a clawed finger. "Follow."

Just as he had last time I was in the shop, he led me downstairs. He stopped in front of one of the bookshelves and pulled a book from it. To my surprise, he just set it on a nearby side table, along with the others that had been beside it. Grabbing the potted plant from its spot on the shelf, he handed it to me and said, "Hold this, please."

I did, watching as he pressed the back panel of the emptied shelf. It let out a soft _click_ and swung open. In the space behind it was another, hidden shelf full of books. These seemed to be some of the oldest in the shop. Other banned books, I assumed.

"One cannot be too careful," Jobasha explained. "The Temple could punish Jobasha if they knew he had these."

He selected one of them and pulled it out. It was small, with a reddish-brown cover trimmed in green. After carefully dusting it off, he held it out to me.

"The 'Progress of Truth', as requested."

I traded the strange potted plant for it. Gently, so as not to crack the spine, I opened it and examined the contents.

The material within — which had been compiled by the Dissident Priests collectively, according to the title page — did indeed scrutinize the legitimacy of the Tribunal Temple. There was a whole section of the text dedicated to questioning the major points of the doctrine. The corruption of the Temple hierarchy, the desire to return to Ancestor Worship, a mention of the unjust persecution of the Nerevarine cult. Of interest to me was the first point, however, the one labeled _The Divinity of the Tribunal._ I read through it.

 _Temple doctrine claims their apotheosis was miraculously achieved through questing, virtue, knowledge, testing, and battling with Evil; Temple doctrine claims their divine powers and immortality are ultimately conferred as a communal judgment by the Dunmer ancestors [including, among others, the Good Daedra, the prophet Veloth, and Saint Nerevar]. Dissident Priests ask whether Dagoth Ur's powers and the Tribunal powers might ultimately derive from the same source — Red Mountain. Sources in the Apographa suggest that the Tribunal relied on profanely enchanted tools to achieve godhead, and that those unholy devices were the ones originally created by the ungodly Dwemer sorcerer Kagrenac to create the False Construct Numidium_.

Something about this struck a chord in me. The ending in particular. Kagrenac. The Numidium. The mention of unnamed, enchanted tools. This all sounded… strangely familiar. I tugged at my ear as I stared at the page, trying to understand. I _knew_ what this all meant, I was sure of it, but it felt as if I were grasping at something just out of my reach. Yet another hole in my memory. Why, whenever I needed to remember something, was I confronted with this infernal void? The most I got was a flash of crystal and brass.

"How much for the book?" I asked Jobasha as I closed it again.

"For a friend of a friend: one hundred fifty septims."

It wasn't cheap, but I hadn't expected it to be. If the book was as critical to Cosades' research as Milo made it out to be, then it would be worth the cost. I counted out the gold from my purse and handed it over to him.

In yet another surprise, it appeared we still weren't finished. The khajiit led me back upstairs and over to his desk. After fishing around in it for a moment, he pulled out a loose cover approximately the same size as 'Progress'. Taking the book from me, he first clipped on the false cover, then wrapped it up as well.

"For both your protection and Jobasha's," he said as he finished and handed it back to me. "It was a pleasure doing business with you."

"Likewise." Tucking the wrapped book under my arm, I left the store.

* * *

"You're back sooner than I expected," Cosades said when he opened the door to see me standing on the stoop. "Did you find everyone?"

"I did. Even Addhiranirr."

The spymaster ushered me in, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he watched me pull the items I'd brought for him out of my pack.

"She said that the Nerevarine prophecies are nothing more than superstition, and should be ignored," I told him.

"Noted. What else?"

"The Sixth House cult is recruiting smugglers all over the island, and the latter are being uncharacteristically quiet about what it is that they're moving for them. Huleeya gave me some information on the Nerevarine cult and the associated prophecies, which are summarized here."

I handed him the stack of notes the Argonian had given me the first time I was in the bookstore. Cosades skimmed through them. When I gave him the book, however, he looked at the cover and raised an eyebrow.

"'A Less Rude Song'?"

"A false cover," I told him. "It's the 'Progress of Truth', a text written by the so-called Dissident Priests questioning the legitimacy of the Tribunal and the Tribunal Temple. It was, accordingly, banned. Mehra Milo suggested I find a copy for you. She's also worried that she's being watched, and that she might have to go into hiding soon. I was told to tell you that, if that happened, she would leave word for you under the agreed-upon codename."

"Amaya," Cosades said, nodding slowly. "Very good work, Talise. I'll look over your notes from Huleeya and this book. Your pay is on the table. Go out and treat yourself to a new pair of shoes. Talos knows you probably need them after all the walking you've been doing."

Sure enough, there was a purse of septims waiting on the table. I took it and was about to leave. Then I hesitated.

"Sir, why are you sending _me_ out after this information?" I asked, despite my better judgment.

"What brought this on?"

"Huleeya asked." It wasn't actually a lie.

Cosades shrugged. "Because I needed the information, you're new, and you're still young."

"I'm certain that I'm older than you," I pointed out.

"And a Legion veteran to boot, yes. That doesn't exactly stop you from getting yourself in and out of danger easier than I could." He paused. "On the other hand, your attitude contradicts my point, especially compared to the average Wood Elf. You're quiet. Serious. If I didn't know better, I'd almost mistake you for one of these Dunmer."

"You wouldn't be the first one to say something like that."

"No?" he asked with a questioning look.

"It worried the caretakers of the orphanage where I was raised. The kinder ones told me I was an 'old soul'."

"An old soul, indeed." He rubbed his chin, seeming to think something over. "If I may, I have a question for you. That thing you do with your ear when you're thinking…"

"Just a tick, sir. I've always done it."

"Have you ever had your ears pierced?"

I paused. Had I? "No, not to my knowledge."

He considered this for a long time. Then he set the book and papers down and said, "Right, then. I'm promoting you to Journeyman. Go back to House Redoran, do some more work for them to keep your cover story current. That will give me time to read and digest all this. I'll let you know when I have something else for you."


	7. Rescue

Some weeks after giving Cosades the information from the three Vivec City informants, I had yet to hear anything from the Spymaster. I'd returned to Ald'ruhn, as requested, to continue my work for House Redoran. From there, I'd been sent north to the settlement of Ald Velothi for a time. Mainly to deal with pests plaguing local mines belonging to the House and deliver reports. Once helping fight back encroaching members of House Telvanni. In that time, nothing out of the ordinary had happened. No more strange dreams, no cultists following me, just ordinary work. And there was enough of it that I could almost forget that anything was wrong.

When I returned to the Council Hall in Ald'ruhn, I nodded to Neminda as I passed by. Instead of merely acknowledging the gesture, she beckoned me over to her desk. I obliged.

"How did the work for Theldyn go?" she asked as I approached her.

"Well, I think. The situation at Shishi has been resolved."

"Good." The drillmaster adjusted the stack of reports waiting atop her desk and set them aside. "It's good that you're back; I have something else for you."

"Another job?"

"No, a request from Serjo Athyn Sarethi. He wishes to speak with you."

I frowned, feeling puzzled. I hadn't seen the Councilor since I'd been sent to protect him from the assassins.

"Did he say what about?" I asked her.

"Only that he wanted to speak with you, specifically."

"Thank you. I'll go see him, then."

I'd returned to the Council Hall to do some training, but that would have to wait for the time being. After exiting back into the main chamber of Under-Skar, I made my way across the interconnected bridges and platforms to reach Sarethi Manor. Inside, there seemed to be no sign of the Councilor in the entry hall. It wasn't long until I was approached by a guard in bonemold armor.

"Can I help you?" he asked. Sarethi must have received new official guards after his last ones were killed by the assassins.

"My name is Talise," I explained. "Councilor Sarethi sent word that he wished to speak to me."

"Wait here."

I did, watching as he disappeared to the left down an intersecting corridor at the far end of the entry hall. While I waited, I looked around. The section of the room on the other side of the pillars had a long formal table surrounded by numerous chairs. Past that was an area filled with large red pillows for seating.

At the sound of footsteps, I turned to see Councilor Sarethi walking toward me, with the guard just behind him.

"Thank you for meeting with me, sera." Turning briefly to the other mer, the Councilor said, "That will be all for now."

With a salute, the guard returned to his post on the other side of the hall. I waited, hands clasped behind my back, to be addressed again. When Sarethi finally spoke, all he asked was, "How long have you been here in Vvardenfell?"

"Just over three months, Serjo."

"And you've already made the position of Lawman? Fascinating." He looked me over and continued, "I've been following your work. Rescuing merchants and pilgrims, clearing mines of nuisances, aiding in the taking of Shishi, defending our House's honor. And you saved my life from those assassins. I have not forgotten that."

"Thank you."

"The others in the lower ranks of the House seem to hold you and your deeds in high regard, despite the unusual nature of your background, and I do not think I can blame them. Tell me, sera Talise — had you considered further advancement within the Great House Redoran?"

"I… had not, Serjo," I admitted. It had been made clear to me that, to advance higher than the rank of Lawman was both incredibly difficult and would require me to obtain a sponsor. That I had reached the position I had in only a few months was nothing short of a miracle. The place I was in seemed, for the moment, to have been good enough.

"I can tell you now that I would consider sponsoring an outlander. I have done so before, when the circumstances warranted it. And the circumstances seem to in this instance. From what I have come to understand, you are honorable, dutiful, and a skilled warrior. House Redoran could use someone like you in our upper ranks. In exchange, however, I would ask you to do something for me. Something definitely illegal, and quite possibly dangerous as well."

"Illegal" and "dangerous" seemed to have become my life as of late.

"What do you require of me?"

"Bolvyn Venim holds my son, Varvur, hostage for a crime I know he did not commit under the privilege of private justice."

"Bolyn Venim, Serjo?" I asked. "The Archmaster?"

"The very same. I know Varvur is being held in his manor here, Under Skar, but where exactly I could not tell you. Please, rescue my son and return him to me."

I was being asked to break into the home of the Archmaster of House Redoran in order to free a criminal, regardless of whether or not Sarethi's son did actually commit a crime in the first place. In this instance, I wasn't sure "dangerous" even began to cover what would happen if the rescue went wrong. The risk was almost unimaginable. Not only could I lose my place in the House, but any deep inquiries could expose my connections to the Empire. On the other hand, though, having one of the Councilors backing me would certainly be useful in the long run.

"I don't expect Archmaster Venim will just let me walk out with his prisoner without repercussions," I said. "And it isn't as if my face is not known Under-Skar."

"Have you received a set of bonemold armor yet?"

"I haven't, Serjo."

Sarethi thought it over for a moment. Then he said, "A Gah-Julan helm would hide your face. None of Venim's guards wear them, but there are enough in Under-Skar that _do_ that you may be lost in the crowd."

"Won't my height be a cause for some concern?" I pointed out.

"Hopefully you will not be in the Manor long enough for anyone to notice." He pressed his gray fingers into his temples and closed his eyes as he added, "It's a Hlaalu move, but times are desperate. I cannot hope that our Archmaster will give Varvur a fair trial. This is the only way to ensure his safety."

I considered saying something else, but thought better of it. Sarethi, however, noticed.

"Speak your mind," he said.

"It might not be my place but I must ask: you don't trust the Archmaster to do the right thing by his House?"

"Bolvyn Venim is a complicated mer. He is a strong leader, and has done great things for House Redoran." The Councilor sighed and shook his head. "How can I explain the hold he has over the hearts of the Redoran people? He brought us back from certain defeat. He moved the council here to Vvardenfell and took our share of the frontier lands. He is a natural leader, born to rule. One only wishes he was just and fair as well as strong."

So that was it, then. Either I risked making Venim an enemy, or I left Sarethi's son to rot. Could I even truly consider the latter? In the end, there was only one real choice available.

"Serjo," I said, making up my mind, "if you can find me some armor, I'll get your son back for you."

* * *

Venim Manor was far grander than Sarethi manor, but I hadn't expected anything else from the Archmaster of the House. The first thing I saw in the entry chamber was the planter with giant, twisting mushrooms that dominated the space. The room was also two-storied, with arched balconies overlooking the entry. Upon seeing the guards stationed here and there, I noticed that the Councilor was right. Not one of them wore the Redoran-style bonemold that seemed to be the standard everywhere else. Instead, they all wore suits of Dwemer-brass plates. I wasn't sure that was even legal. Nor was I sure, with what I had heard about him, that Venim cared.

None of them even looked in my direction as I passed by. The disguise was working for the moment. Careful not to run, I headed for the door at the right side of the chamber.

Inside was another, larger room with a set of steep stairs leading down to the floor. The space seemed mostly devoted to martial training, with a large mat laid out and racks of weapons along the back wall. On either side of the sparring floor were long wooden benches. Resting atop one was a note, along with a key. Odd. I looked around. It seemed, for the moment, that I was alone. I quickly skimmed the note's contents.

 _Malsa,_

 _Keep our special guest in the room behind the tapestry. Make sure the door is locked and that he is under guard at all times. If he escapes, I will blame you._

 _V_

"What are you doing here?" a woman's voice asked. "This area is restricted."

Not so alone as I'd thought. Turning, I saw a Manor guard approaching me. I sighed. Sarethi told me not to kill anyone during the rescue attempt. After all, we were all still members of the Great House, and that was firmly against the rules. Besides the fact that there was already one major crime in play. Adding murder onto that wouldn't do anyone any good.

I sidestepped the guard's attempt to grab me. When she reached for her weapon, I slammed my hand against the breastplate of her armor and sent a pulse of energy through it. Not enough to kill; just to stun. That was what I hoped, at least. I'd done this before, but it was an inexact process at best. Her whole body shook and she toppled backward. She hit the floor with the clatter of metal and lay still. When I checked, she was still breathing. She was unconscious, though who could say for how long? I snatched up the key from the bench and looked around.

Not far away was a small room that was little more than an alcove. Covering its back wall was a large, red tapestry decorated with the beetle-shaped Sigil of House Redoran. The note mentioned a room hidden behind a tapestry, one that was meant to be guarded. Sure enough, when I went over and pushed it to the side, there was a door set into the wall. I unlocked it with the key I'd taken and opened it.

The room on the other side was barely furnished. There was a short table with a plate of untouched food and a single candle, which was barely enough to illuminate the surroundings, and a bedroll. Seated atop the latter, knees drawn up to his chest, was a Dunmer. As I approached, I saw that he was little more than a boy. He couldn't be older than twenty. The row of black hair that ran along the length of his head in a traditionally Dunmeri style hung limp. His clothes, which must have been fine at one point, were torn. When he caught sight of me, he stumbled to his feet.

"Who are you?" Varvur Sarethi demanded. "You're not one of the Archmaster's guards."

"No, I'm not. Your father sent me." Gesturing to the open doorway, I added, "We need to hurry."

He nodded and followed me back out of the room. The guard I incapacitated still lay prone on the floor, but was groaning. It wouldn't be long before she was on her feet again. After ushering Varvur up the stairs, I held up a hand, signaling for him to stop. I opened the door a crack and peered through into the entry chamber. There were only two guards there now, both by the door directly across from the entrance. Could we both make it to the front door before they noticed? From behind me, I heard voices, which grew steadily louder. More guards? They'd find the one who was still partially unconscious, then us. We were out of time.

I opened the door further and motioned the boy forward. When we walked out into the next room, I kept myself between him and the two guards.

We made it around the planter and to the bottom step before one of them called, "You there! Stop!"

"Walk faster," I told Varvur in a whisper. "Don't look back."

He nodded. Boots thundered against the stone floor behind us. I heard the sound of weapons being drawn. Wrenching open the Manor's front door, I pushed the Councilor's son out an instant before a hand clamped around my arm. I grabbed the guard's hand in turn and sent a pulse of energy into his armor. He gave an involuntary lurch backward, bumping into his companion.

" _You s_ _'_ _wit!_ " he gasped.

Taking the last step out onto the platform, I slammed the door on the two of them and turned to Varvur, saying, "Apologies for that, Serjo. This way."

* * *

When I returned to Sarethi Manor with Varvur in tow, the Councilor was waiting for us in the entry hall. He wasn't alone. A red-haired womer sat at the table, hands clasped, staring at the wall. When we walked down the stairs, she hastily stood.

"Varvur?" she called. I stepped aside when she hurried to meet him. "Thank the Almsivi you're still alive. Are you hurt?"

While the womer — who I assumed was his mother — continued to speak with him in undertones, I pulled off my helmet and ran a hand through my hair. For the moment I could only hope that we weren't followed back to the Manor. I'd seen several of Venim's guards out on the platforms after we escaped, but, as Sarethi had guessed would happen, I was fairly certain they lost us in the crowd. Only time would tell if this was actually the case.

After a few quick words with Varvur, the Councilor approached me, saying, "Thank you for bringing my son back to me. I have not forgotten my end of the bargain; I will serve as your sponsor in our House."

"Thank you, Serjo."

"There is one more thing I would ask of you, however. Don't leave Ald'ruhn. Time is of the essence in getting to the bottom of what happened to Varvur, and I may need your assistance again. If this is the case, I may send someone for you."

"I had no plans to leave the city anytime soon, regardless."

He inclined his head to me. "Thank you again, sera Talise. You may go."

I bowed to him and, with my helm tucked under my arm, left the Manor.

* * *

Once out on the streets of Ald'ruhn again, I was approached by another Bosmer. She was a few inches taller than I was and dressed in a dusty-pink working dress. Her dark hair was straighter than mine, and her eyes were something near amber.

Reaching me, she asked, "You're Talise, right?"

"I am, but who wants to know?"

"We both work for the same man in Balmora, who just sent this message for you." She held out a sealed letter to me. "Apparently it's important."

So she was a Blade as well, then. Unsurprising. I was sure there was at least one agent in every major city on the island.

Taking the letter, I asked in return, "Did he say anything else?"

"Not to me."

I nodded and looked down at the letter. The exterior was unmarked, the red wax seal plain. Nothing to suggest important contents. They were likely the orders I'd been waiting for. When I looked up again, the womer was gone. Opening the letter, I saw that it was indeed written in Cosades' handwriting.

 _I_ _'_ _ve had time to read through the last set of notes you brought me, as well as mull things over, and come to the conclusion that what we need is an Ashlander informant. I've heard of a fellow in Ald'ruhn named Hassour Zainsubani, an Ashlander who left the Wastes to become a trader. I'm not sure where to find him, but I'd try the Ald Skar Inn._

 _It_ _'_ _s said that Ashlanders like to give and receive presents. Find out what Zainsubani likes, and get him a gift. See if he will tell you about the Ashlanders and the Nerevarine cult, then report back to me. I'll reimburse the cost._

 _Caius_

* * *

I followed Cosades' instructions and went to the Ald Skar Inn, in the northern part of the city. From there, I was directed to the small, quiet room beneath the bar. A mer sat alone at one of the tables, reading a book and sipping some sort of drink. He did not look up at me when I walked over to him.

"Excuse me, are you Hassour Zainsubani?" I asked him.

"I am. May you bless and be blessed." Turning the page, he said, "I do not wish to be rude, but if you have business, speak it, for I am at leisure and would prefer to be alone with my thoughts."

"I want to know more about the Ashlanders, and I believe you may be able to help me."

"I see. And what is it that you wish to learn?"

"What are their gift giving customs?"

He paused and finally looked up from his book. "A curious question. A gift is a sign of courtesy among strangers, and affection among friends. Among strangers, a thoughtful gift is a sign that you are cautious and considerate, and aware of the other's wants and needs. Such is particularly useful for traders and travelers. Among friends, however, it is a private thing. And subtle, with great risks, for the test of the gift is how well it is tailored to the receiver."

"If I may ask, what would a thoughtful gift of this nature entail in your opinion?" I asked carefully. Perhaps not carefully enough, however, because looked me over with an appraising eye.

"I believe I understand. You wish to give me a suitable gift, but you do not know me well enough to choose such a gift, or you cannot find a gift you know to be suitable for me." He closed his book and set it down on the table. On the cover was the title _The Five Far Stars._ "Well. Let us take your earnest thought and effort as a token of your gift. You have behaved courteously, and I am inclined to help you. What is it that you _truly_ wish to know?"

When he gestured to a nearby chair, I pulled it over and sat down before addressing him again.

"I do wish to know more about the Ashlanders."

Zainsubani shook his head. "There is too much to tell."

"Whatever you can would be be of help. Please."

"Were you planning on visiting the tribes?" he asked me. As he spoke, he absently turned his glass.

"Possibly."

"Then there are things you should know about courtesy and challenges. It will save you from making blunders should you decide to go to one of the camps."

I nodded to him. "Thank you."

"Ashlanders may challenge a stranger who enters a yurt without invitation," he explained. "Customs differ between the tribes, but leave when requested and you may be forgiven the trespass. Be particularly careful about ashkhans and wise women. Some are welcoming, some are hostile. Be courteous. If offended, they may attack."

Not entering a place uninvited seemed to be a simple enough thing, but I expected the nuances were more complicated than that.

"And challenges?" I asked.

"When challenged for sport, it is acceptable to decline. When challenged for honor, it is shameful to decline. Honor challenges come from offense given in speech or action, or may represent customary formal challenges of status or ritual."

As I had heard come up in occasion for offenses in House Redoran as well. That made sense. Between all these things, I thought I had enough information for at least a start on courtesy among the Ashlanders for Cosades. The next part he wanted, though, I expected would be a bit trickier.

"If I may, again, is there anything you can tell me about the Nerevarine Cult?"

"That is not exactly a subject for idle conversation," Zainsubani said, turning the same appraising look on me once more.

"Perhaps not, but I would still appreciate knowing more."

"I have heard it said that prophecies foretell the return of a reincarnated Nerevar Moon-and-Star, who shall drive the foreigners from the Ashlands and cast down the false gods of the Temple, and restore the true worship of the Ancestors." He waved a hand in a tired, dismissive gesture and added, "It is a dream that would appeal to every Ashlander, but it is thought but a silly ancient legend and little more by many Ashlanders — myself included."

None of this I hadn't heard before. Deciding to push my luck, I asked him, "How does this cult fit into the larger scope of Ashlander worship?"

"This is a strange topic for a foreigner to be inquiring after."

"My interest in the cult is purely out of academic curiosity."

A lie, and one I wasn't entirely sure was convincing.

Still, the mer did not press the matter this time. Instead he told me, "In truth, the cult is of small consequence in Ashlander worship, and only among the Urshilaku do its followers have any influence. Other tribes share the sentiments of the cult, but regard the prophecies with suspicion and skepticism."

"Where would one find the Urshilaku tribe?"

"They live on the northern coast of Vvardenfell. The camp moves with the herds, but usually lies close to the Sea of Ghosts. Ashkhan Sul-Matuul is their chief, a brave and respected war leader, and Warrior-Protector of the Nerevarine cult. Nibani Maesa is their wise woman, and the Oracle-Seer of the cult."

Finally, some real, concrete information about where to find someone who might have a bit more to say than the standard, vague rhetoric. Hopefully that would be enough for Cosades and, maybe, enough for _me._


	8. Ashes

It was the next morning when Councilor Sarethi contacted me, sending me a message to return to the manor. Sooner than I had expected, perhaps, but I went regardless. Upon arriving in Sarethi Manor, I found him already waiting in the entry hall. He rose when he saw me.

"You have need of me, Serjo?" I asked him.

"Yes. Follow me."

Councilor Sarethi beckoned for me to follow him out of the entry hall and further into the manor. As we walked, he spoke to me quietly.

"My son has been accused of the foul murder of Bralen Carvaren," he explained. "He was one of Varvur's closest friends. I cannot believe that he would have done such a thing, but the evidence is… persuasive."

"You believe he was framed?" I asked.

"I do not know what to believe. The facts stand against him. Still, I cannot help but feel there is some form of treachery afoot. I've had him stay in his room so that he can rest, and to keep him away from any prying eyes while we sort all of this out. Thus far we've had no luck in getting much of an answer out of him. I'm hoping you will have better luck. Speak to him, find out what happened."

"I will try, Serjo," I said.

Councilor Sarethi sighed. "That is all I can ask for now."

He led me to a door with a guard posted outside of it. At a nod from the councilor, the mer stepped aside and opened it. With one last nod, Sarethi turned and went back the way he'd come. I took a deep breath and stepped across the threshold. The guard closed the door behind me again.

Varvur Sarethi sat on the edge of the bed to the right side of the room. I noticed that they had cleaned him up since he'd been returned to the manor, though there were still deep shadows beneath his eyes. He was slumped forward a little, staring at his hands. Slowly, he looked up at me.

"It's you again," he said quietly. Shaking his head, he added, "I'm sorry. I'm not feeling well. What do you need?"

"Your father sent me," I explained. "He wants to know what happened between you and Bralen Carvaren."

"I didn't kill him."

"I never said you did."

He watched me with weary eyes for a moment. Then he ran his hands down his face and told me, "The guards say they found me near his body, but that night is all just a haze to me. I couldn't have done this. I wouldn't have. He was my closest friend. Sometimes, though…"

He trailed off and looked down at his hands again.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Sometimes I have bad dreams," he admitted.

A chill ran through me. "Dreams?"

Varvur nodded. "I've killed him in my dreams before. It's… _horrible_. But that doesn't mean I actually killed him, does it?"

I didn't answer. Something not-quite-hidden under the bed had caught my eye. When I knelt down to get a better look at it, I saw that it was a figurine of some sort. It was a little bigger than my hand and fashioned out of what appeared to be red and black ash. Blood-red gems were set into what should have been the head as its eyes and it was crowned with a row of spikes. With a frown, I reached out to take it.

The instant my skin came into contact with it, pain exploded behind my eyes. I saw Dwemer pipes above me, black hair streaming out like a banner in the wind. Bronze, crystal, worried dark eyes flickered to red.

Couldn't—

 _Had to—_

I snatched my hand away again. My fingertips stung.

"Serjo, where did you get this?" I asked. He shook his head, gaze distant. "Try. Please. This is important."

He pursed his lips, stared at him hands. Finally, he said, "Guvron. Galtis Guvron, at _The Rat in the Pot_."

I had a name, at least. Removing the scarf from around my neck, I reached for the statue again with it. When I caught it in the fabric, there were no more flashes of whatever it was I saw. I wrapped it up and got to my feet again. With a bow to Varvur Sarethi, I left the room and returned to the manor's entry hall.

The Councilor was there. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, eyes closed, waiting. When I stopped, he finally turned to me.

"What have you found out?" he asked.

"Your son was given some kind of statue fashioned from ash. It's almost certainly magical, and possibly cursed," I explaine, unwrapping the thing just enough to show him. Sarethi frowned.

"How certain are you of this?"

"The timing to too suspicious to be a coincidence. And if something does come of it, he supplied me with the name of the mer who gave it to him."

The Councilor was quiet, staring at the statue with weary eyes. Then, slowly, he said, "This statue troubles me. I would have you speak with someone at the Temple about this, perhaps Lloros Sarano. And find the one who gave it to my son. I want to know what motive he could have possessed to do this. You are dismissed."

* * *

Entering the Tribunal Temple on the eastern edge of Ald'ruhn, I looked for any sign of the Temple Priests. After a few moments, one stepped out of the main room and came up to meet me. His robes were plain and ash-colored, and his long dark hair was partially pulled up in a knot atop his head.

"How can I assist you?" he asked me.

"I'm looking for a priest named Lloros Sarano."

"You're speaking to him. What do you need?"

"Councilor Sarethi sent me," I explained. "But the matter is sensitive."

Sarano eyed me with suspicion. Then he nodded, perhaps more to himself than to me, and gestured to the doorway leading into the next chamber.

"This way."

I followed him into the next room, which was filled with shrines and a large pit of ashes in the very middle. This early in the day, there were few people here. The priest led me away from them to a secluded corner.

"Now, what is it that the Councilor asked you to come to me, specifically, about?" he asked once we were situated.

In an undertone, I told him, "It's regarding his son. I believe the boy may be cursed."

"That is no small claim. I take it that you have some sort of evidence?"

"I do. Before the attack on Bralen Carvaren, he was given this statue made from ash."

"An ash statue?" The priest frowned. "May I see it?"

I pulled the wrapped statue out and handed it to him, scarf and all. He pulled the cloth covering off enough to get a better look at it and turned it over several times to examine it. Then he raised his free hand and cast a spell that sent a shower of white sparks raining down over the statue. At this, his frown deepened.

"Yes, I can see there is some kind of conjuration enchantment on this statue," he murmured. "And a powerful one at that."

"Could it have influenced him to kill his friend?"

The priest nodded. "He may still be under its influence, even now. Tell Varvur to come speak with me. I have ways of ensuring that the enchantment is broken. When I am sure that he is no longer a threat, I will see to it that he is cleared of the charges of murder."

That would be a relief to the Councilor and his son both.

"Thank you, sera. I will inform the Councilor."

I left then, heading back out into the city. With the nature of the statue at least somewhat revealed, the only thing left was to find out who had wanted to do this to Varvur Sarethi.

 _The Rat in the Pot_ Cornerclub was at the very southern end of Ald'ruhn, in the shadow of the wall that surrounded the city limits. Inside, it was smaller and dingier than either of the other clubs. Most of the patrons present eyed me warily from the shadowy edges of the room. As I approached the bar, the Breton tending it raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I'm looking for a mer named Galtis Guvron," I said. "Do you know where I can find him?"

She shrugged, slow and deliberate. Pulling out a few septims, I set them down on the counter in front of her.

"And now?"

She slid coins under the counter and nodded to the stairs at the back of the bar area.

At the bottom of the stairs was the small room that seemed to be customary in Redoran cornerclubs. As I entered, the Bosmer sitting near the front of the room got up and left, leaving only one occupant. The Dunmer was near the back, dressed in worn clothes. When I approached, he got to his feet.

"Are you Galtis?" I asked him.

"Who's asking?"

"A concerned party. It's come to my attention that you've been in contact with Varvur Sarethi."

"How could you — Nevermind. I'll just take care of this right now."

With that, he ripped a knife from his belt and came at me. I grabbed his arm, twisting it, and wrenched the blade from his grip. After it clattered to the floor, I kicked it away across the room. He struggled against my grip and I I pinned him down, still twisting his arm behind his back.

"What was the purpose of the statue?" I asked. "Why give it to the Councilor's son? _Answer me!_ "

That's when I saw his hand move, a glint of silver. Before I could stop him, he took the second blade and dragged it across his own throat. I let him go and he toppled, gurgling, blood spilling out over the stone floor. Before long he lay still.

"Curse it," I muttered. It hadn't been a stretch to assume he would give nothing up without a fight, but I should have suspected that he would prefer to take his own way out rather than answer questions. And I should have seen that second knife.

What I did notice, in that moment, was a satchel lying in one of the chairs. Peering inside, I saw two more of those strange statues. There was also a note. I pulled it out, careful to avoid touching the ash figurines, and unfolded it.

 _Here is another crate of statues. These are to be placed here in Ald_ _'_ _ruhn. Place them quickly and wisely. Destroy this note. Do not disappoint me again._

 _Hanarai_

No doubt Sarano would want the remaining statues, and I was sure the guards would be interested to hear that there were smugglers around the city. I grabbed the bag, pocketed the note, and left the cornerclub.

* * *

 _Once more, I stood alone in a dark tunnel. The only sound was the distant whistle of the wind. Hollow and faint. Ahead I saw a dim, blood-red light. I walked toward it._

 _"_ _Lord Nerevar Indoril," a familiar voice said in my ear, "Hai Resdaynia! Long forgotten, forged anew..."_

 _When I looked to my right, there was no one there, despite almost being able to feel the speaker walking beside me. The voice belonged to the mer in the golden mask, of that I was certain. It was too distinct to belong to anyone else. A voice I was sure I knew, but could still not quite place._

 _I finally reached the tunnel_ _'_ _s end and stepped out into a raging storm. The wind, which before had only been a sharp whistle, turned into a roar in my ears. Red ash swirled around me in thick clouds. I held up a hand to shield my eyes. When I thought I could, I squinted at my surroundings._

 _Despite the difficulty of seeing through all the ash, I caught glimpses of the tattered remains of tents flapping in the wind. It was the remnants of a war camp. Somehow, the place felt_ _…_ _familiar. But these were not the remains of a Legion camp._

 _I took another step and something snapped under my foot. Glancing down, I saw that it was a leg bone sticking out of the earth. I took a hasty step back. When I looked around again, I realized that they were all around me; hundreds of bodies, half buried and worn down by the raging wind. The casualties of a massive battle. I remembered this battle. I_ _'_ _d_ fought _this battle. How was that possible?_

 _Directly ahead was a tent larger than the others, torn and ruined and mostly collapsed just like the rest. Inch by inch, I fought my way toward it through the gale. Once I reached it, I saw something painted on what must once have been the entry flap. A design that had faded with time. I reached out and grabbed the canvas to hold it steady. It was a stylized crescent moon with a single, six-pointed star nestled into the curve. The sight of it, and the meaning behind it, drifted through my mind like an old melody to a song for which I had forgotten the words._

 _"_ _Three belied you, three_ betrayed _you!_ _"_ _the voice said to me, tone sharp with something I could not name. "One you betrayed was three times true!"_

 _Something dripped down my face and ran over my hands. Thick and red as blood. I let go of the canvas and the torn flap of tent was caught in the wind once more. A choking scent filled my nose, cloying and sweet. My head spun. Suddenly it felt impossibly to breathe._

 _"_ _Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur, steadfast liegeman, faithful friend, bids you come and climb Red Mountain!"_

 _The earth ripped out from beneath me and I fell hard to my knees. The wind howled louder than ever as the world itself rushed around me. Then, just as quickly as it began, the wind died. I looked up._

 _Red ashes hung frozen in midair all around me. Some clung to my skin. In that moment, it felt as if I was both freezing and burning at the same time. I shook all over as if from a fever. I drew my arms around myself to ward off the sensation, though it did little good. The only sounds were those of my own shuddering breaths, too loud in my ears._

 _Ahead, through the suspended cloud, I saw a path leading up to a craggy face of rock. Set into it was a Dwemer-bronze door, open to the yawning tunnels beyond. From the darkness stepped a lone figure. A tall mer wearing a strange, golden mask. He approached me in silence; not even his footfalls made a sound. Kneeling down before me, he put his hands on my shoulders. Through his mask, I saw his eyes. Red as the ashes that hung around us, as whatever it was that still covered my hands and dripped down into my own eyes. There was pity in that gaze._

 _"_ _Beneath Red Mountain, once again," he whispered to me. "Break your bonds, shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind."_


	9. Urshilaku

"I think it's about time you actually told me what's going on here, Cosades."

I didn't bother knocking when I returned to the spymaster's house in Balmora. There was no point, and I wasn't exactly in the mood for pleasantries. For his part, Cosades seemed unfazed by me just striding in unannounced. He barely looked up from the reports he was reading through.

"Judging by the lack of a 'hello', I'd take it you have some idea," he said.

"I'm the Nerevarine."

Even saying it aloud sounded strange. To finally admit to what I'd been thinking all this time. All those dreams. The face on the Ordinator's masks. A name spoken by a stranger I was sure that I had once known. The missing memories. They were a thousand puzzle pieces that led straight to an impossible answer.

"The Emperor and his advisors think you have the _appearance_ of meeting the conditions of the Nerevarine prophecies, yes." Raising an eyebrow, he asked, "Why else do you think you were pulled out of prison on his Majesty's authority and sent to me?"

Why else indeed? Cosades held up a finger, stalling whatever else I might have said to that, and got to his feet. Crossing to the chest on the far side of the room, he unlocked it and rifled through its contents. Pulling out a stack of papers, he handed them to me and said, "Here. This is a decoded copy of the package you gave me when you arrived. It should explain everything."

I took them from him with a frown and began to read through it.

 ** _Spymaster Caius Cosades_**

 ** _Knight-Errant of the Imperial Order of Blades_**

 ** _Director of Imperial Intelligence in Vvardenfell District, Eastern Provinces_**

 _I have the honor to acquaint you with his Majesty's wishes concerning Talise, a former Spellsword of the tenth legion._

 _Talise has been released from the Imperial Prison by his Majesty_ _'_ _s authority and sent to you with this missive. She is to be entered as a novice in the Imperial order of the Blades, and is to serve under your absolute authority as you shall see fit, except insofar as his Majesty's particular wishes are concerned. They are as follows:_

 _A local superstition holds that an orphan and outcast, born on a certain day to uncertain parents, shall unite all the tribes of the Dunmer, drive out the invaders of Morrowind, and reestablish the ancient laws and customs of the Dark Elven nations. This individual is referred to in legend as the_ _"_ _Nerevarine," and is supposed to be a reincarnation of the long-dead Dunmer General and First Councilor, Lord Nerevar Indoril. Talise has the appearance of meeting these conditions. Therefore it is his Majesty's desire that she shall, insofar as possible, satisfy the conditions of this ancient prophecy, and become the Nerevarine._

 _Though this prophecy is indeed only an ancient superstition, his Majesty has taken counsel on this matter with his most expert informants and confidants, and his Majesty is persuaded that the prophecy is genuine and significant, either in its entirety, or in its several parts, and he earnestly demands you treat this matter with the utmost seriousness._

 _Certain aspects of this ancient superstition are described at the end of this document, and further materials will be forthcoming by courier at the earliest occasion. It will, of course, be necessary that you acquaint yourself better with the details of this ancient superstition from your local sources. Since this matter intimately concerns Talise, it is expected that you will employ her to gather information on this subject. His Majesty has taken a great personal interest in the legends and prophecies of the Nerevarine, and eagerly awaits reports your reports._

 ** _I have the honor to be, Sir, your most Humble and Obedient Servant,_**

 ** _Glabrio Bellienus_**

 ** _Personal Secretary to the Emperor_**

I flipped through the other pages in the stack. These were written in Cosades' handwriting. Most of the pages were taken up with poetic verse, with notes scrawled here and there in the margins. I barely suppressed a snort of laughter at the note following " _Prophets speak, but all deny._ "

— _Conventional complaint of prophets: no one pays any attention to us._

I took stock of the rest of these notes, particularly the section on Nerevar's family crest. The moon and star. I remembered seeing it on the ruined tent in my latest dream; a crescent moon with a six-pointed star. A sigil I remembered despite never having seen it before.

"Do you really satisfy the prophecy?" Cosades asked. "Are you really this prophesied Nerevarine? At first, I thought we were just supposed to create a persuasive impostor."

I looked up from the page. "And now?"

"Now I don't know what to think," he replied, gesturing vaguely at the papers in my hands. At me. "The package described the conditions and you seemed to match them. I can see how it would be nice to have the Nerevarine in our pocket, just in case. But his Majesty seems to think this prophecy is genuine — whatever a 'genuine' prophecy is — and we're going to take it seriously. Aren't we, Talise?"

I wasn't sure it was possible to do anything except take this seriously now.

Reaching into my pack, I pulled out another set of papers and set them down on the table.

"Zainsubani's notes," I explained.

Cosades shook his head and pushed them back toward me."Keep them. You'll need those notes more than I will."

"Why?"

"Because I'm promoting you and sending you to the Urshilaku. You want real answers? Talking to them is your best bet."

* * *

I headed north from Balmora toward the last known location of the main Urshilaku Camp, stopping at Fort Moonmoth for supplies on the way. The road took me through most of the West Gash region of Vvardenfell and into the northern portion of the Ashlands. I made my way up to the island's coast, where the Inner Sea met up with the Sea of Ghosts. There, nestled in between the ashen hills, I found the camp. A large collection of guar-skin tents and campfires, all clustered around a central group covered with a large awning.

I hadn't been there long, watching the campsite from outside its borders, before one of the men broke away and came to meet me. Unsurprisingly, there was an arrow nocked on his bow as he approached.

"What do you want, outlander?"

"I have come to talk," I told him. "Nothing more."

His lip curled. "You come to talk? Then _talk_. And make it quick. I am hungry and have little patience for mindless chatter."

Mindful of what Zainsubani told me, I came prepared. I pulled a kwama egg from my pack and held it out to him. The hunter slowly lowered his bow, regarding me first with suspicion, then curiosity.

"A gift," I said.

"These are quite tasty, and not so easy to get. I thank you." He carefully took it from me and asked, "Why have you come here?"

"I fulfull the Nerevarine prophecies, and I wish to speak to your Ashkhan, Sul-Matuul, and Nibani Maesa."

The mer stared at me.

"I do not believe what I am hearing. You think you are the Nerevarine, and you wish to speak to Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa. You do not _look_ like the Nerevarine." He hesitated. "But you do not speak like a fool, or a madman. This is a puzzle."

I stayed silent, knowing better than to push him as he thought it over. Either I would be able to see them, or I wouldn't. I was prepared to wait however long it took.

Finally, the hunter said, "Go speak with Zabamund in his yurt. He is a gulakhan, and he will decide what is right. If Zabamund gives you permission, then you may enter the Ashkhan's Yurt and speak with Sul-Matuul. Follow me."

The hunter led me down into the camp. Many of the ashlanders gave me strange looks as I passed by. I kept my gaze ahead. We wound our way through to the central cluster of tents, which were arranged in a semi-circle. Banners marked with strange designs surrounded the entrance and bone chimes hung from the underside of the awning overhead. They clacked together in the breeze. The hunter stopped in front of the entrance to one of the tents on the right side of the circle and held up a hand.

"Wait here," he said.

I nodded and he slipped inside. Through the guar-skin walls, I heard hushed voices. After a few minutes, he poked his head out again, gesturing for me to come inside. I did, slipping through the entryway and letting the flap fall closed behind me.

The mer inside was waiting for me, and seemed prepared just as much for a fight as a talk. One hand rested atop the large chitin shield propped up by his feet.

"Tussurradad tells me you know of the Nerevarine prophecies," he said. "These things are not for outlanders. Why should Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa speak to you about them? Who are you, that we should trust you?"

"I was born under the sign of the Tower, to unknown parents, and I believe I fulfill the prophecies," I told him.

He gave me an unamused look. "Is that all?"

"I know that the tribes of the Ashlands followed Nerevar into battle with his promise to honor the rights of the land, and I know the Nerevarine is meant to return to honor these promises. To cast down the Empire and the Temple both. I know the Tribunal's godhood was stolen using Dwemer tools. And I know that they are weakening, and that's why the blight is growing stronger."

As before with the hunter, Zabamund stared at me in silence. Still, I continued speaking.

"Dagoth Ur is reaching out with the Sixth House all over this island, corrupting it from the inside out. In the cities of the Great Houses, in the underground networks of smugglers, using statues of ash to possess and influence. I have seen his Sleepers and heard their prophecies of destruction. Things are becoming dire, I realize this. And that's why I humbly ask to speak to your Ashkhan and wise-woman."

"These are not simple matters. You know a great deal more than I would have thought. And some of what you say is news to me." He drummed his fingers against the top of his shield. Then he said, "I believe you should speak to Sul-Matuul. Perhaps he will be angry with me — he has no love for outlanders — but I think I can bear that. Go to his yurt, ask him your questions. Tell him I have sent you."

"Thank you," I said, and I exited again. After some quick directions from the hunter, who was still waiting outside, I went to the tent directly across the entrance from the circle. It was larger than the others around it. Inside, decorated shields covered the walls. A mer lounged at a table across from the central fire. There was a sharp crown braided into his black hair that I thought might be made of bone. The guards that surrounded him all stepped toward me, reaching for their weapons.

"The gulakhan Zabamund sent me to speak to you about the Nerevarine prophecies," I said.

The Ashkhan held up a hand and the guards stopped. His eyes narrowed and he stared across the fire at me with a look of challenge.

"So, my champion sent you, did he? Then go ahead. Talk. I am very curious."

I repeated what I told Zabamund, finishing with, "I believe I fulfill these prophecies, and I wish to be tested."

Sul-Matuul raised his eyebrows. "You do, do you? No outlander may join the Nerevarine cult. But if you were a Clanfriend — an adopted member of the Ashlander tribes — then perhaps."

I wasn't about to be scared away so easily. "Then what would you have me do? I will do whatever is necessary."

"I have an initiation rite in mind," he said. "A harrowing. You will be judged by the spirits and ancestors to see if you are worthy. Go to the Urshilaku Burial Caverns and fetch me Sul-Senipul's Bonebiter Bow. He was my father, and his spirit guards his bonemold longbow deep in the burial caverns. Return it to me, and I will adopt you into the Ashlander tribes as a Clanfriend. And then I will submit you to Nibani Maesa, who is skilled in oracles and mysteries, and who will test you against the prophecies."

I bowed to him and, when he waved me off, I left the tent.

* * *

I followed the instructions of the hunters, leading me to a cavern filled with the mummified remains of the ancestral Ashlanders. As well as hordes of walking skeletons and the spirits of the dead. In the very bowels of this tomb, I found the bow clutched in the grip of one of the mummies, and protected by his ghost. In the end, I took it from him and returned to the Urshilaku Camp.

"This is my father's Bonebiter Bow," Sul-Matuul said in wonderment when I returned to his tent with the bow in hand. He looked at me then as if he were seeing someone else. Someone he had not expected.

"You have completed the initiation rite," he told me, his tone formal once more. "I name you Talise, Clanfriend of the Ashlanders. Keep my father's bow, and bear it with honor. Now I will fulfill my other promise."

* * *

Sul-Matuul had me wait to meet with the wise woman. When I was finally allowed to see her, I found Nibani Maesa bustling about her tent. She went through baskets of ingredients, a mortar propped against her hip. Her white hair was done up in elaborate braids, and she was dressed in brown robes covered in hundreds of tiny iridescent beads I thought might be made from beetle shells. She barely glanced at me as she worked.

"They've told me of you, outlander," she told me in a sharp voice. Then she laughed. "Or, shall I say, _Clanfriend_. You are hard-headed. And ignorant. But perhaps it is not your fault. My lord Ashkhan says you will ask me about the Nerevarine prophecies. He also says I will test you against them. I must do as my lord Ashkhan says. So ask your questions, and I will test you."

I got the impression that she would rather be doing anything but that.

"Where do I begin?" I asked carefully.

"There are many prophecies, and they suggest many things. The Stranger. Aspect and uncertain parents. The moon-and-star. Sleepers. The curses' bane. The Seven Visions. And, of course, the lost prophecies."

I knew _The Stranger_. It was the prophecy from Cosades' package.

"I was born on the third of Frostfall, under the sign of the Tower," I told her. "I never knew my parents."

Maesa lifted a shoulder, looking unimpressed. "If what you say is true, then you are indeed born on a certain day of uncertain parents. But many have the same birthday, and many are not sure of their parents. It is interesting. But it does not make you the Nerevarine."

She set her mortar down and circled me, looking me over.

"Legend says Indoril Nerevar's family standard bore the moon and star, and Nerevar's armor and weapons bore this sign," she said. "Some say he bore a moon-and-star birthmark. Some say he has a magic ring marked with a moon-and-star. Others say he was born under a moon-and-star. In any case, I think the moon-and-star is the mark of the Nerevarine, and you do not have this mark. So you are not the Nerevarine."

I swallowed, but kept my expression blank. "What about the sleepers?"

"Rumors say that in the towns, these mad cultists are attacking people, saying that Dagoth Ur has awakened, and will drive the outlanders from Morrowind."

She turned and picked up her mortar again, throwing a few more items in and crushing them with the pestle as she walked away.

"Perhaps it is just a coincidence, but I think it is a sign of the Nerevarine." She turned and pointed to me, adding, "Not necessarily a sign that _you_ are the Nerevarine. Perhaps the time of the Nerevarine has come. And you have come at the same time. This is not passing a test. But it may mean you have some part to play in the coming of the Nerevarine."

It wasn't much, but it was something. So I went on, "And the curses' bane?"

"To be honest, I don't know. There are so many curses. The Seven Curses of the Sharmat seems likely, but I cannot be certain. I do not know this prophecy, and I know no one who does. It may be lost. Such things happen."

I remembered Huleeya mentioning something about lost prophecies when I spoke with him.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to it?"

Maesa waved a dismissive hand and explained, "A wise woman dies, or forgets, or a clan is wiped out. Perhaps someone knows, but is keeping it secret. Perhaps it is in one of those many books of your settled peoples. I have heard that the Dissident priests of the Temple may have such a thing."

"And the other prophecy? The Seven Visions? I haven't heard of this one."

"Then listen, and I will tell you the verses." She cleared her throat and continued, " _What he puts his hand to, that shall be done. What is left undone, that shall be done. First trial: on a certain day to uncertain parents, incarnate moon and star reborn. Second trial: neither blight nor age can harm him, the Curse-of-Flesh before him flies. Third trial: in caverns dark Azura's eye sees and makes to shine the moon and star. Fourth trial: a stranger's voice unites the Houses. Three Halls call him Hortator. Fifth trial: a stranger's hand unites the Velothi. Four Tribes call him Nerevarine. Sixth trial: he honors blood of the tribe unmourned. He eats their sin, and is reborn. Seventh trial: his mercy frees the cursed false gods, binds the broken, redeems the mad. One destiny. He speaks the law for Veloth's people. He speaks for their land, and names them great_."

"What does all of that mean?"

"It tells us who the Nerevarine will be, and the trials he must undergo before he fulfills his destiny. Some parts I understand. Some parts I do not. I will answer as best I can, but I cannot pretend to understand it all."

"The first is like it was in The Stranger," I guessed.

"Precisely. The second is harder to understand. Will the Nerevarine come as a spirit who is not harmed by blight or age? I don't know. But I think Curse-of-Flesh means the blight disease corprus. Perhaps the Nerevarine can heal this disease. The third is about the Cavern of the Incarnate. There are secrets I may not tell you about this. Do not ask." She jabbed the pestle at me, its end covered in an odd, yellow-green paste. I made a note of that.

"The fourth and fifth trials… it's about uniting the Great Houses and the Ashlanders, as Nerevar did once. What's a Hortator?"

"A war leader, chosen when the Great Houses must put aside their normal feuds to unite against a common enemy. This has not happened since the Empire invaded our land. And it would truly be a miracle to unite the four tribes of Vvardenfell who have so long raided and warred with one another, but the Nerevarine must be one who performs miracles."

"What about the sixth and seventh?"

"I am not sure. 'The tribe unmourned' may mean the Sixth House —House Dagoth — which was exterminated after the Battle of Red Mountain. But it may also mean the Dwemer. And 'eating sin' is doing atonement for another's sin. 'The cursed false gods' must be the Tribunal. They are surely false gods; evil sorcerers and necromancers. They murdered Nerevar so they might set themselves up as gods. 'Binds the broken' must refer to Nerevar's broken promise to the Ashlanders to honor the ways of the Spirits and rights of the Land."

I nodded slowly, taking it all in. So many things that I had no idea how to even _begin_ to accomplish. And a bigger question. A more pressing one.

"I know you are dying to ask," Maesa said. "So ask."

"Am I the Nerevarine?" I asked her.

"As it stands, you are not. Not according to the tests set before you. And yet…"

"Yes?"

She shook her head. "It is a puzzle, and a hard one. But you have found some of the pieces, and you may find more. Seek the lost prophecies among the Dissident priests of the Temple. Find them, bring them to me, and I will be your guide. Now, I have told you all I know." Then she waved me off. "Go. Think on what I've told you, and do what must be done."

I started to leave the tent. Then I stopped, one hand on the flap. Turning back to her, I said quietly, "He spoke to me in a dream."

She paused as well. "Who did?"

"Dagoth Ur. He called me Nerevar. He spoke of three betrayers."

"And? I know there was more. There is always more."

" _Break your bonds,_ " I said, repeating his words to her, " _shed cursed skin, and purge the n'wah from Morrowind._ "

Maesa sighed and turned to me again. "This is a strange dream, indeed. The Sharmat Dagoth Ur speaks to you, in the voice of prophecy. He curses the three false gods: Vivec, Almalexia, Sotha Sil. He calls you to drive the outlanders from Morrowind. This is a very strong dream, very cunning, a dream to stir hearts. This is a very good lie. He called you Nerevar, did he? The dream of the Nerevarine is very strong and very dangerous. For you, and for all my people."

A dangerous dream, yes. I knew that. But a lie? I wasn't so sure of that. And judging by the look in her red eyes, Maesa wasn't either.


	10. Ilunibi

Cosades leaned back in his chair and let out a long, low whistle.

"So, from what Sul-Matuul and Nibani Maesa said, it sounds like you could really be the Nerevarine. That's incredible. Just incredible."

I returned to Balmora, and the spymaster, with the news of what was said at the Urshilaku Camp. To my surprise, he seemed to be taking it better than expected. And perhaps better than I myself had.

He laughed and shook his head, continuing, "But I suppose I'll just have to get used to the idea. Let me try to get word to Mehra Milo. Maybe she can find out whether the Dissident Priests really do have any of these lost prophecies."

I handed him a piece of paper and a quill, and he took them with a nod. As he began scrawling out his note, he added, "In the meantime, I have tough assignment for you. Do you think you're ready?"

"At this point, I think I may be ready for anything," I told him.

"Don't get cocky. But it just so happens that I agree — you're ready. Before you head out, make sure you have whatever you think you'll need. I think this one will be rough."

"What do you want me to do?"

He dipped the quill in the inkwell again and kept writing. "Fort Buckmoth sent a patrol to Gnaar Mok, hunting smugglers with Sixth House connections. In doing so, they found a base; A Sixth House shrine, along with a priest named Dagoth Gares. Speak to Raesa Pullia at the fort. Hopefully she can steer you in the right direction. Find that base, kill the priest, and bring me back a full report."

* * *

Fort Buckmoth was situated roughly halfway between Ald'ruhn and Gnaar Mok, the latter of which was situated directly on the marshy coast. The fort itself sat atop a dusty hillside at the very edge of the Ashlands, its Imperial towers yet another shade of gray against an already bleak backdrop. Asking around the amongst stationed legionnaires for Raesa Pullia, they directed me to the fort's main interior hall. There, an Imperial woman in full legion armor was waiting, hands clasped behind her back.

"You're Talise, aren't you?" Pullia asked me. When I nodded, she went on, "I've been expecting you. Caius says you're the one to handle this Sixth House base we found."

"I am. Now, what happened? Cosades left out the details."

"Only one trooper returned. He died soon after, horribly disfigured with corprus, and out of his wits. In his ravings, he spoke of a cavern on the coast — he called it 'Ilunibi.'"

"Then that's the base Cosades spoke of. What is it?"

She shrugged. "No clue. A cave, maybe? It's not on any of our maps. If I were you, I'd try asking some of the locals in Gnaar Mok. They may have a better idea than we do."

"Noted. Is there anything else you can tell me? This trooper for instance… you said he came back with corprus."

"He did." Beckoning for me to follow, she led me over to a quiet, isolated corner and said in a hushed tone, "Apparently, somewhere in the base the troop ran into a half-man creature named Dagoth Gares. He slew the rest of the patrol, but spared the one trooper and old him he was being spared so he might pass a message."

"What message?"

She looked around to see if anyone was listening in. "The trooper barely responded to our questions — just kept rambling on like a madman until he died — so we only have pieces of it. What we could make out was, and I quote, 'The Sleeper Awakes,' 'The Sixth House has Risen,' 'Dagoth Ur is Lord, and I am his Priest,' and 'All will be One with Him in the Flesh.'"

I felt a chill go through me. Those words sounded like what that Sleeper told me that day on the streets of Balmora.

"I'd never seen it in person before," Pullia said. I noticed that she barely suppressed a shudder. "Corprus. His flesh was swollen and covered in growths. His bones twisted and lost their shape. He spoke to himself, as if in a dream. We didn't even recognize him at first, save his clothing and armor. The chaplain tried everything — spells, potions, you name it — but it couldn't cure him. Didn't realize until then how fast corprus can kill. It sure wasn't pretty. The troops seem shaken. To tell you the truth, I'm a little worried myself."

So was I. Who knew how many more cases like this one would crop up? Gnaar Mok wasn't even _in_ the Ashlands, where most of the serious cases of the Blight seemed to crop up. That meant it was spreading, and far too quickly at that.

"I don't want the details getting out any more than they already have. Enough of the men here know, and I hate to think what would happen if it got out to the general population."

She was right to be worried. It would be chaos.

"I'll find Gares, and I'll end this," I told her. "You have my word on that."

* * *

From Fort Buckmoth, I headed southwest across the rugged terrain toward the town. Gnaar Mok was a small town, the buildings perched on wooden stilts above the marshy ground that lined the western edge of Vvardenfell's coastline. The residents all seemed skittish, what few of them were on the streets, and I couldn't exactly blame them. One of the womer outside caught my eye as I passed. I stopped.

Before I could ask her anything, she looked me over and said, "Never seen you here before. First time in Gnaar Mok, then?"

"It is."

"Let me give you a little advice," she said as she gave me a tight smile. "We aren't used to visitors here, and we don't like what we aren't used to."

"So, where would I need to go if I were looking for directions?" I asked her, raising an eyebrow.

She looked me over again, lingering over my armor. "You seem like an okay sort, so that would be me, I suppose. Go ahead."

"I'm looking for a place called Ilunibi," I said, and the change in the womer was immediate. Just like that, her expression shuttered, and she looked away from me. I slipped her some coins from my purse. "Let's try this again."

Pocketing the coins, she said, "That's what they call the old sea cave up on the north end of the island, right on Khartag Point. Don't be poking your nose in there, though. Someone might object."

I was sure they would.

"I'll keep that in mind."

After teasing out some more specific directions from her, I headed north from the town into the marshes. Sure enough, at the furthest northern point of the island, I found the massive boulder she'd referred to as Khartag Point. Nearby was the half-hidden mouth of a cave. Drawing my sword, I plunged inside.

A series of rocky ledges led down past a waterfall thats flow lurched with the movement of the tides. I passed it, heading through the knee-deep water further into the caverns. Before long, I caught a glimpse of something in the distance. Red candles. They were just like the ones from my dreams, the crimson wax oozing down over the stones beneath them. If they were there, I figured I must have been in the right place. When I rounded another corner of the tunnel, I saw two mer ahead, dressed in tattered clothing. Their eyes locked on me an instant later and they drew their weapons. So much for the element of surprise.

There was nothing for it. Raising my own blade in turn, I charged at them.

* * *

I fought my way through the caves, cutting down more of the cultists as I went. At the very bottom of the caverns, I found a door surrounded by a halo of those blood-red candles. I pushed it open and stepped across the threshold.

On the other side of the door was a chamber that looked to be the shrine proper. Off to the side was a set of strange, cylindrical, black bells. Directly across from the door, twin braziers flanked an altar covered with those odd ash statues. Between it and me was a strange, humanoid creature. He was dressed in tattered white robes, and had the pointed ears and gray skin of a Dunmer, but his face…

Where the upper part of his face should have been was instead a long, tentacle-like appendage. As I walked forward, it turned in my direction before the rest of the creature did. Then he swept into a low bow.

"The Sixth House greets you, Lord Nerevar." A slow smile spread across what passed for his face. "Or Talise, as you choose to call yourself. I am known as Dagoth Gares; priest of Ilunibi Shrine, and minister to Sixth House servants. My Lord, Dagoth Ur, has informed me of your coming."

My grip tightened on the hilt of my blade and I kept my steps cautious. "If you knew I'd come here, why set out the guards?"

Despite his monstrous appearance, his tone was pleasant enough. "Forgive the rude welcome, but until you have declared for us, we must treat you as our enemy. And Lord Dagoth would far rather have you as a friend. He bids you come to Red Mountain."

"Did he say anything else?"

"He did. Lord Dagoth gave me these words to say to you, so you may give them thought."

He straightened himself up and spoke in a voice that was not his own.

" _Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service_."

It sounded like him, Dagoth Ur, and I wondered if it actually _was_ him speaking through the priest. Then he shifted back to his prior stance once more.

"For the friendship and honor that once you shared, he would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew." Dagoth Gares put a hand to his chest and bowed his head as he continued, "I am not your Lord Dagoth, yet I, too, would say to you... Do you come with weapons to strike me down? Or would you put away your weapon, and join me in friendship?"

I stood there, silent and unmoving. The priest raised his head. He seemed to be watching me, though I did not know how he could without any visible eyes. Then, quietly, he said, "I believe I already know your answer. A pity. I wish that this time you had come to honor your Lord's friendship, not to betray it."

His hand shot out and I barely stepped out of range of the red blast of the spell that rushed toward my head. I heard a low _boom_ from behind me as it crashed into the chamber wall. Dodging a second spell, and a third, I rushed at him. He swatted my blade away as it were nothing and reached out for me with clawed hands that glowed red with power. I sent an arc of electricity at him that sent him staggering backward. As he tried to right himself, I ran my sword through his gut. He fell to his knees before me and I ripped the blade back out again.

With a wheezing, coughing laugh, he said, "Even as my Master wills, you shall come to him. In his flesh and of his flesh."

Before I could stop him, he reached out and pricked my left hand with one sharp finger. I felt it pierce through my glove. Staggering away from the monstrous priest, I ripped it off to see a black mark blooming across the palm of my hand. A cold, sick feeling dropped into the pit of my stomach. I knew what that was.

When I looked back at the priest, frantic, he lay still on the cavern floor. There was a letter grasped in his clawed hand. Reaching down, I hastily snatched it from his grasp. Reading it could wait. I had to get back to Balmora, and I had to get back _now._

* * *

Wrapped up to disguise the spread of the blackening infection across my flesh, I staggered up the steps of Cosades' house and sagged against the door. I didn't even have the strength to knock. Frankly, I'd barely made it back to Balmora at all. Instead, I called as loudly as I could manage, " _Cosades. Cosades, are you there?_ "

The door opened and I fell inside. Arms caught me before I could hit the floor and pulled me up. Through my bleary gaze, I saw the spymaster's face above me. He was staring in horror at the left side of my face. My scarf must have fallen.

"What happened, Talise?" he asked me in a rush. "Is that—"

"I'm sorry," I gasped as the world rushed up around me and everything went black.


	11. Corprus

_The Dwemer construct lay pitched beside the road, broken and half-buried in the earth. It appeared to have lain there for some time. Still, I was cautious as I approached. Their weapons remained dangerous even while dormant._

 _It must have been as tall as I while standing, and while it had a face — one molded of Dwemer-brass in their likeness — it was decidedly alien in form. It had no legs. Instead of hands, there were twin blades affixed to its arms. Despite the mud that coated them, they still appeared wicked-sharp. Thank Azura the thing had somehow been downed before we arrived. I held up a hand._

 _Behind me, there was a commotion as the canvasari came to a halt. The pack-guar grumbled in impatience, as did their handlers. The Merchant-Captain broke away from the others and strode over to where I stood._

 _"_ _What is it?" he asked brusquely, just as impatient as the rest to be underway once more._

 _"_ _Dwemer construction. A dead one," I told him, gesturing to the mechanical corpse. "Finding one so far into Indoril lands bodes ill enough, but I've never seen this construct style before. We should take it with us to the capital, show it to Lady Almalexia. I expect she would wish to know of their new machinations."_

 _He snorted._ _"_ _The thing is made of metal, and big as any of us here. We'd need compensation for the weight, and I doubt the Lady would oblige. If we went to Noormoc instead, sold it to the Red Wives of Dagon, that would be a different story. They pay well for the wonders of the Dwemer."_

 _I ripped off my travel-mask in disgust and asked him,_ _"_ _Did you hear a word I just said? Or is the pay all you care about, Captain?"_

 _"_ _I hired you to guard this canvasari, not to question me."_

 _One of the other merchants spoke up then, saying,_ _"_ _He may not have been, but I know_ I _was hired on to help you seek the best possible fortune. The Red Wives may pay better, it is true, but it would likely be better in the long run to take the construct to Lady Almalexia in the Mourning Hold. I say you should listen to your guard._ _"_

 _`The Merchant Captain looked from him, to me, to the downed construct lying at his feet. He licked his lips once. I saw it in his face; he had already made up his mind._

 _"_ _Change of plans," he called out to the canvasari. "We go to Noormoc."_

 _While most of the others seemed prepared to oblige, I was not. Snatching my purse from its place at my hip, I threw it at the Captain_ _'_ _s feet. The coins inside clinked sharply as the bag hit the earth._

 _"_ _There. Your pay for the damned construct," I snapped. "War is coming with the men of the North. We all know this." I gestured to the rest of the silent canvasari, then jabbed a finger at his chest and added, "I will_ not _have our land at odds with one enemy while trying to contend with another. Trying to fight on two fronts would be suicide._ _"_

 _He stared at me with hard, pale eyes. A sneer curled his lip._

 _"_ _It is not enough."_

 _I drew my axe and he drew his sword. Though he made to strike me down, I was faster. I cut a deep slice into his belly. He crumpled to the earth, blood and slashed guts pooling around him. It wasn_ _'_ _t long before he lay still. His blank eyes stared up at the heavens. With the barely-dead mer's blood still dripping from the head of my axe, I faced the rest of the merchants. Every one of them stared at me in shock._

 _"_ _I am Captain of this canvasari now," I called, "and I say we take the Dwemer machine to our Lady. Are there any objections?"_

 _When there were none, I turned away from them once more, stowing my axe and slipping the mask back over my face._

 _"_ _Then we head for the Mourning Hold."_

* * *

I woke to hands tightening around my neck. My eyes snapped open to see an emaciated mer hovering over me, hair white and brittle, eyes somehow both vacant and frenzied. I scrabbled at his long, thin fingers, but they were stronger than they looked, and my left hand was too numb and weak to have any effect. Reaching around, I frantically searched for any kind of weapon. That was when my fingers brushed the hilt of a knife tucked beneath the pillow. I wrenched it out and stabbed my attacker through one of his glassy, red eyes. He let out one long, drawn out _hiss_ before collapsing to the floor. I slumped back, head spinning, and tried to catch my breath.

I was in Cosades' house, sprawled across the bed in the corner. I vaguely remembered making it back there before passing out on the stoop. The spymaster must have gotten me inside. Where was he now? How long was I asleep for? A quick check told me that the corprus had not spread much further. The parts of my body covered in diseased flesh still throbbed painfully, however. I looked down at the still body lying on the floor. He'd been one of the Dreamers, that much was certain. I'd never seen that look from anyone else but them.

As my heart-rate slowed back to normal, realization crept in. I'd seen something in my feverish haze. Not another of those strange dreams, no. It was a memory — _my_ memory. I could still smell the dust of the road kicked up by the canvasari, the musty scent of the pack guar, the fresh spill of blood. That was tangible and very, very real.

The front door open and Cosades stepped inside, arms full of wrapped packages. I was surprised to see he'd put on a shirt for once. He stopped, eyes on the emaciated body that lay between us.

"Divines, what happened here?" he asked.

"Yet another present from Dagoth," I replied, pushing myself upright with a grimace. Though I had to wonder _why_.

"Along with corprus."

I nodded.

He set the packages down on the table and started ripping them open. I saw potion bottles filled with a watery teal-colored liquid, along with a strange Dwemeri artifact. Then he approached me, stepping over the corpse, and knelt down next to the bed.

"I've been dosing you with healing and anti-blight potions since you came back. It still looks like it's spreading, but it's slowed down. Next step is to find an actual cure."

Searching for a cure for a supposedly incurable disease? For all his cynicism, Cosades must have had a great deal of faith to even bring it up.

"I have some good news in that department, at least," he said, almost as if he could read my thoughts. "After the reports I heard coming out of the encounters at the base, I was worried you might catch corprus during your mission. So I canvased my informants for possible treatments. Fast Eddie had a solution."

"Fast… Eddie?"

"Edd Theman, also 'Fast Eddie' or 'Eddie the Rat'," Cosades explained with a sigh. "He's a former Telvanni who went Imperial and joined the Mages Guild. Colorful, but unreliable. Still, he's an invaluable source on the inner workings of the Great House. He told me that your best chance is Divayth Fyr — the Telvanni wizard who runs a Corprusarium for victims of the disease. I asked Eddie what it was like."

"And what did he say?"

Cosades snorted. "He told me, and I quote, 'It's a swell place. Full of doomed crazy people with bloated bodies. You'll love it.'"

That was just what I wanted to hear.

"What about the wizard?" I asked, brushing the thought aside for the time being.

"He's ancient and particularly temperamental. Though that might just be the standard for any of the Telvanni magisters." Reaching back toward the table, he grabbed the artifact along with a large purse, and continued, "Take this Dwemer artifact, and a thousand drakes, and go to Tel Fyr. Hopefully a gift will sweeten his disposition. The gold is for travel expenses. Take the Guild Guide in town to get to Wolverine Hall, outside of Sadrith Mora, and ask Sondryn Irathi at the fighters guild for directions."

He set them on the bed beside me, then grabbed the bottles and placed them there as well.

"And here's a couple potions of Levitation. I hear you'll need them in those towers, since these Dunmer wizards apparently don't use stairs."

Hide the corprus, teleport to Sadrith Mora, get to the tower, convince the wizard to cure me… simple, really.

Cosades got back to his feet and cleared his throat. "Now, get moving, get that corprus cured, and hurry back. I think I know how to get the lost prophecies Nibani Maesa asked for."

I gathered up all the items and slid them into my pack, which lay, abandoned, nearby. Then I pulled out my helmet. The scarf wouldn't do me much good with the rate it was creeping up my face. Getting unsteadily to my feet, I slung the pack over my good shoulder and pulled the helm down over my head. My left leg throbbed with every step I took across the room. I stopped at the door and looked back over my shoulder at the spymaster.

"Cosades?" I said.

"Hmm?"

"Thank you."

His brows shot up in surprise. Despite his brusqueness, and no small amount of manipulation on his part, he'd still kept me alive. For that I was grateful.

* * *

I followed Cosades' directions into the local Mages Guild, where I paid to have the Guild Guide there teleport me across the island to the Imperial fort known as Wolverine Hall. It was like a maze, and took me hours to track down Sondryn Irathi. From the fort, she directed me southeast, across Zafirbel Bay. I crossed from island to island, keeping to the shallows between them. Even though she had told me it wasn't far from Sadrith Mora's island, it still took me the better part of a week to reach Tel Fyr. By then, I couldn't see out of my left eye. I refused to look at my reflection in the water as I passed by. At least I could walk. More than once, I wondered why it was creeping along. Was it whatever Cosades had done when I was out with fever? Was it Dagoth's influence, wanting to keep me on my feet enough to make my way to the mountain like he wanted? Or was it something else? There was no way of knowing.

Tel Fyr itself was an organic monstrosity that covered the entirety of the rock it was planted on. The tiers of the mushroom tower jutted out like horns over the bay, darkening in the red glow of sunset. I followed the winding path in front that snaked across the water, leading up to the door. Once there, I knocked and waited. Minutes passed, and a Dunmer opened the door. She was dressed in full bonemold armor, and her white hair was bound back in several thick braids.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"I need to see Divayth Fyr." With every word, my throat felt as if it were being rubbed raw.

The womer stepped aside and gestured into the tower. "Of course. This way, please."

When I followed her inside, she led me into an entry hall. We passed by a chamber set with benches and a fire and turned right, heading up a winding, tunnel-like hallway that curved up into the tower. At a crossroads, she stopped and pointed up to a vertical shaft cut into the ceiling.

"He's up above in his study," she explained. "I hope you can fly. You can't get up there otherwise. Sorry."

Thank goodness Cosades prepared for this. I muttered out what I hoped sounded like a confirmation, and she left back the way we'd come. Once she was gone, I uncorked one of the potions and lifted my helm enough to drink it. As best I could manage, anyway. It was hard to swallow. I felt tingling sparks shoot across my skin as the potion began to take effect, and I willed myself into the air.

At the top of the shaft was another crossroads. Only one of the rooms was occupied, and I made my way over.

The chamber had a vaulted ceiling, and I thought it might be one of those spires I saw from the outside. Bookshelves flanked the walls to either side of the entrance, covered in an array of faded old tomes, small items of Dwemeri make, and several skulls covered in black leather straps. The far wall of the room was filled with a display of mushroom trees , towering purple crystals that gave off a faint, humming tone, and a large desk covered in an assortment of books and loose papers. Seated at it, with his back to me, was a Dunmer. His armor, unlike the womer's, was a full set of black-and-red Daedric plate. His white hair was pulled into a high ponytail at the back of his skull.

The mer, who I could only assume was Divayth Fyr, did not look up as I entered the room. He just kept reading as he said, "As you can see, I am very busy, so if you have something to say I would suggest you make it quick."

"I would speak with you, if I may."

"What…"

He turned just as I pulled the artifact from my pack and trailed off. Its odd tubes of glass and Dwemer-brass glinted in the light. Fyr closed the book, a hungry look in his eye.

"That is an interesting piece you have there," he said. "What can you tell me about it?"

"Only that I brought it as a gift," I said, holding it out to him. He took it, turning it over and examining it.

"A gift? For me? How thoughtful." He looked up from the artifact and gave me a critical once-over. "And shrewd. I suppose you know I am a collector, and that such a gift is bound to please me. I congratulate you on your diplomatic skills."

He carefully set it on the desk, adjusting it so it was positioned just so, before turning his attention back to me. His red eyes narrowed and he stroked his goatee.

"So, why have you tried to butter me up, hmm? Come to consult the great Divayth Fyr, have you? Want to plunder the dungeon? Leer at my daughters?"

I'd never particularly wanted to _leer_ at anyone. Instead of answering, however, I pulled off my helmet. In the hazy reflection of one of the crystal's, it looked like half my face was covered in a ragged black mask. The wizard nodded slowly.

"Ah, yes, of course. The divine disease."

"I've never heard it referred to by that name." No longer muffled by the helm, my voice was an ashen rasp.

"A less common name, perhaps, but an apt one nevertheless. The magical principles of corprus are as elusive as they are miraculous, far more subtle and powerful than any conventional sorcery or enchantment. I'm persuaded that it is in some manner the curse or blessing of a god. Perhaps both. The victim, of course, cannot appreciate its marvelous nature. It saps the mind and destroys the body. But, to a wizard, it is a profound and glorious mystery. A riddle worth a lifetime of study."

He continued talking and, judging by what he was saying, he had spent the equivalent of more than one to that pursuit. When he demanded I remove the rest of my armor, I complied, although with reluctance. He made me roll up my sleeve and pant leg, examining the extent the disease had ravaged. While he looked me over, he continued the discussion.

"Did you know that corprus makes you immune to any and all disease?" When I shook my head, he went on, "Ashlanders say the Nerevarine will be immune as well. Have you ever heard of the prophecies?"

I didn't answer, and Fyr added with a laugh, "I've always thought, 'Maybe I have the Nerevarine down in my Corprusarium and I don't even know it.' The Nerevarine is a fat, disgusting corprus monster, and mad as a marsh rat."

"It appears to be your lucky day, sera," I told him. "That would be me."

He paused in the act of turning my chin to examine the damage to my face.

"Fascinating. The Nerevarine in my tower. Your word alone means nothing, of course. Corprus victims have all sorts of delusions. But… let me think…"

He let me go and turned away again, clasping his hands behind his back as he did. The tips of his armored fingers clicked together.

"I have a potion," he began. "In theory, it should cure corprus."

"In theory," I echoed.

He shrugged. "It doesn't work, and would probably kill you if you tried it. It's killed all my test subjects." Then he looked back at me with a cold smile and said, "But you have nothing to lose, do you?"

He was right. I didn't.

"Then you'll give it to me?"

He raised a forefinger. "Ah, ah. Don't be hasty. I want you to look around below in the Corprusarium first. See what's in store if you don't take it. And, while you're there, I want you to pick up a pair of boots from a victim, Yagrum Bagarn. My oldest patient. Handy fellow, fixes things for me. Bring them back, and _then_ you can have the potion."

* * *

I went back down through the halls and was directed by the daughter of Fyr's I had already met to a door at the very bottom of the tunnel. It let out into a cavernous chamber. At the far side was a single door guarded by a heavily-armored Argonian. Sharp horns curled in spirals around his head. He eyed me, taking in the corprus-riddled half of my face.

"Fyr wants his boots retrieved from Yagrum Bagarn."

"Of course." He turned to the door and pulled a key from his belt. As he did, he said, "A warning before you enter: do not harm the inmates. I am both their warden and protector, and I will not tolerate you adding to their suffering. You will answer to me if you do. Understood?"

I nodded.

"Good. When you return, I will let you out."

He pushed the door open then, gesturing beyond with one scaly hand, and I stepped inside. No sooner had I done that than it closed behind me again. A second later, I heard the _click_ of the lock. I kept walking.

The Corprusarium was a series of labyrinthine, interconnected tunnels cut deep into the rock. Streams of water ran down the stone faces of the walls here and there, and I thought that the passages must stretch out beneath the bay itself. The only light came from torches positioned at odd intervals, and from a few distant campfires that I saw down at a few dead ends.

In the semi-darkness, I saw hulking shapes lumbering about. One rounded a corner ahead of me into my tunnel and I hastily ducked into a crevice embedded in the wall to my right. The only clothes he wore were a tattered, dirty old pair of pants. The entire upper half of his body was covered in the bloated, bruise-colored flesh indicative of corprus. Bent in half, twisted limbs dragging across the ground, face almost entirely gone. As it passed by, I heard strange whispering that set my bones humming. I gritted my teeth as I waited for him to leave again. Once he was gone, I climbed back out into the passage again.

Eventually, I heard something else over the sound of the trickling water and the muttering corprus victims. I turned toward it with a frown. Was that a drum? I followed the sound into a chamber further down the the far end, set onto a wooden platform, was something far different to everything else I'd seen in the caverns. A living space, decorated with a table, shelves, and a variety of cushions. A womer in bonemold armor sat on one of them near the front of the platform, playing the drum I'd heard. She looked up at me quizzically as I approached. Save the dark hair pulled up into a knot atop her head, she looked very like the womer who had met me at the tower's door. Another of Fyr's daughters, then. The question I was about to ask her died on my lips the moment I saw who was behind her.

His skin was ravaged by corprus, his body bloated and distorted almost beyond belief, and he was propped up on the clacking and whirring legs of a spiderlike automaton. The only parts of him that were unaffected were his hands, which worked on some small mechanical device, and his face. Not that I could see much of it past the heavy goggles and thick, braided beard. Still, I stopped, feeling like I was staring at a ghost.

Bagarn, Fyr had called him. That was a Dwemeri name. Why hadn't I realized sooner?

"Yagrum Bagarn?" I called out to him.

He stopped what he was doing and carefully lifted the

To watch me with watery eyes.

"You're here for the boots," he said in a matter-of-fact wheeze of a voice. He set whatever he was tinkering on down on the table, picking up a pair of heavy Dwemer-metal boots instead. "Tell my gracious keeper that I can do nothing else for them. The fundamental enchantment is flawed. Might as well start over again, if such a pair of boots could still be fashioned in these benighted latter days. It shames my race that we must be judged by the works of such lack-wit blunderers." He let out a sigh and shook his head before passing them to me.

"How did you come to be here?" I asked him.

Bagarn lifted a shoulder, picked up his work, and began tinkering again. "Lord Fyr took me in when I was a mad monster, out of my mind. In time, I emerged from my dementia, and now I am quite lucid most of the time, though my body is still a grotesque and useless prison."

"What I meant was… You're one of the Dwemer, aren't you?"

"I am. The last, perhaps. At least that is how I style myself. Once I was a Master Crafter in the service of Lord Kagrenac, chief architect of the great Second Empire freeholds, and the greatest enchanter of his time. I could not match the genius of my Lord, but what he could envision, my colleagues and I could build. All of that is gone forever."

"Because they all disappeared, except for you. Surely you must have some idea what happened?"

He shook his head slowly. "I was in an Outer Realm at the time. When I came back, my people were gone. I left Red Mountain, wandering Tamriel for years, searching our deserted colonies, looking for a survivor. An explanation…" He trailed off, staring at the device in his hands, before adding, "Then, a long, long time ago, I returned to Red Mountain, still looking for answers. Instead I found corprus, and I have been here ever since."

"Beneath Red Mountain…"

Dagoth beneath the Mountain. The Dwemer beneath the Mountain. There was something hidden there, a secret. Something they weren't meant to have, and we weren't meant to know.

A flash of crystal. A flash of bronze.

"They were making something in those caverns before they vanished," I murmured.

I felt Bagarn's gaze on me as he said, "Lord Kagrenac devised tools to shape mythopoeic forces, intending to transcend the limits of Dwemer mortality. In reviewing his formula, however, some of our logicians argued that the side effects were unpredictable. The resulting errors could be catastrophic. I think he might have succeeded in granting our race eternal life, albeit with unforeseen consequences — such as wholesale displacement to an Outer Realm. Or he may have erred, and utterly destroyed our people."

As he spoke, I heard another voice. One buried somewhere deep in my memory. It was faint, but becoming clearer, as if heard while I was surfacing from under the water.

 _"_ _They have the Heart of Lorkhan, and found a way to harness its power."_

 _I closed my eyes against the shocked reactions of my councilors and turned my head away. Even though I asked Voryn to look into the matter personally, I had not expected him to actually find something like this_ _…_ _had not wanted…_

 _Still, I needed to know the truth. We all did. If this was true, it could spell disaster for all of Resdayn._

 _"_ _And you are certain of this?" I asked._

 _"_ _I am, but that's not all I saw."_

 _"_ _There's more?" Vehk asked wryly. "How wonderful."_

 _Voryn ignored his quip as he continued,_ _"_ _Kagrenac and his craftsmen are building something in the depths of that mountain. A weapon the likes of which this world has never known."_

 _"_ _What,_ exactly _, are they building?_ _"_ _Almalexia snapped, her voice sharp as a knife's edge._

 _I looked to Voryn then, finally. His expression, ever grim, somehow seemed even more so than usual. He stared back, addressing his next words to me directly._

 _"_ _A god."_

"Is something wrong?" Bagarn asked, shattering the memory.

"I'm sorry. I was… lost in thought." I forced my shaking hands to still. "I need to get these boots back up to the tower."

"Of course. Take them to Lord Fyr with my sincere apologies. And, if you meet with cultivated minds undaunted by the terrors of the Corprusarium, you might mention your recent interview with the last livin Dwemer."

I nodded to him once and turned away, back toward the tunnels leading up and out to the tower above.

* * *

When I returned to Fyr, he held out his gauntleted hand before I could say a word. "The boots first, if you please."

I relinquished them to him and he examined them carefully. As he did, I said, "Bagarn told me to tell you there was little he could do to fix them. Their enchantment has an inherent flaw."

"Much as I expected, but there's little to be done about it. Ah, well." He set them down and retrieved a vial filled with some sort of inky liquid. "Now, I'll give you the potion, on one condition."

"And that would be?"

"You must drink it here. It should act immediately, and I need to observe you very carefully as it does. Agreed?"

I nodded.

"Good. Open your mouth and close your eyes."

I did, trying not to recoil as he poured the contents into my mouth. It tasted _vile._ Ashen, coppery, something sharp that made my eyes water. It was all I could do not to spit it out on the floor. I forced myself to swallow it. An instant later and I heard a sharp gasp from Fyr.

"Look! Look, it's _working!_ "

I opened my eyes and looked down at my left hand to see the blackened, ruined flesh retreating, leaving nothing but a puckered scar in the middle of my palm. Reaching up, I felt my face. It was clear.

No sooner had I reached this conclusion than Fyr finally swooped in and began prodding and examining me once more.

"Remarkable. Let me check your skin… your eyes… your tongue…" He finally let me go again and stepped back, red eyes bright. "There's no sign of corprus left at all. Of course, you still have the disease, just as I planned, but all your symptoms are gone. Marvelous. I'll go try it out on some of the more desperate inmates." He swept past me toward the shaft leading down to the lower floors of the tower.

"Wait."

I heard him stop, turn back toward me. I looked down at my hand again, at the scar left from the point where Dagoth Gares marked me with the disease.

"You told me I still have corprus, just lacking the negative symptoms," I said. "So what exactly is left?"

"As I said, you are now completely immune to disease."

"But that's not all, is it?"

Fyr chuckled. "No, it isn't. The truth is that you will be as you are, right now, forever. Barring any accidents, of course. Unaging. Undying. Essentially immortal. Congratulations."

He did leave then, his footsteps vanishing down the passage behind me. The blessing and the curse of a god, he had called it. An invitation. A condemnation.

"What happened under the Red Mountain?" I asked the empty air.

There was no answer.


	12. Amaya

I returned to Cosades' house with helmet tucked under my arm. When I stepped over the threshold, and the man caught sight of my face, his eyebrows shot up nearly to his admittedly receded hairline.

"It worked," I said.

"I can see that. And I'm glad. It would be a shame to lose you after all the work we've sunk in over these past months."

There was something about his tone, something off. His voice sounded tight. That was when I noticed the packed bag resting on one of the chairs. Ready and waiting.

"You're leaving?" I asked, confused.

Cosades sighed. "I've been recalled to the Imperial City. I only waited here to give you your final orders before I left."

That only added to my bemusement. "Recalled? Why?"

"Internal politics. I seriously thought about refusing the recall, but they have members of my family back in the capital." He hesitated, as if measuring his next words, and said quietly, "I'm afraid it may have something to do with the problems with the succession. As the Emperor's health declines, factions are maneuvering for advantage. When he dies, all Oblivion is going to break loose."

He turned away, brow furrowed as he pulled the light shirt hanging over the back of one of the chairs over his head. Then he straightened and cleared his throat.

"Forget about the Imperial City. Think Locally. Worry about the Sixth House, and the squabbles between the Great Houses and the colonists. In any case, I may be gone a while — which is why you're promoted to Operative. That makes you the ranking agent here in Vvardenfell district. As far as I know. There may be others here I don't know about. It wouldn't surprise me."

The idea that he would be gone was… strange. He'd been here to fall back to since I'd arrived on the island all those months ago. Now there would be no one.

"You said you had orders for me?" I asked, brushing the feeling aside.

"I've followed up with Mehra Milo on finding the lost prophecies, but she's being watched. Do you remember the code word for if something has gone wrong?"

"Amaya."

"Good. If they've caught up with her, find her private quarters; she'll leave you a message there. In any case, figure out what she knows. Find the lost prophecies. Then take them to Nibani Maesa. From that point on, you'll be on your own."

"Understood, sir."

He hoisted the pack over his shoulder. Then he dug into his pocket and pulled out something small.

"I won't be needing this while I'm in Cyrodiil," he said, tucking it into my free hand. It was a plain, bronze ring that glittered with a hint of enchantment. "Maybe it'll come in handy. Take good care of it for me, will you?"

I nodded. "I suppose this is goodbye, then."

"It is. Hopefully things don't go to Oblivion in a handcart in the capitol, or here. Any more than they already have, at least. But if anyone can weather this storm, it's you. You're made of sterner stuff than you look. In any case, good luck, Talise."

With that he left. The door closed behind him, and I was left to stand in the small house in silence. After a minute or two I dropped my own pack to the floor. As I did, a bit of paper fluttered out. I crouched to pick it up. It was a letter, sealed with ash-colored wax bearing double-beetle insignia of House Dagoth. Vaguely, I remembered that I'd pulled it from Dagoth Gares' hand just before I fled the shrine. I'd almost forgotten about it.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I broke the seal and unfolded the page. Its contents were written entirely in Daedric script. Somehow, this didn't surprise me.

 _Lord Nerevar Indoril, Hai Resdaynia_

 _My Lord, Friend, and Companion_

 _Once we were friends and brothers, Lord Nerevar, in peace and in war. No houseman ever served you better, or more faithfully. Much that I did was at your command, at great cost to myself, and my honor._

 _Yet beneath Red Mountain, you struck me down as I guarded the treasure you bound me by oath to defend. It was a cruel blow, a bitter betrayal, to be felled by your hand._

 _But, remembering our old friendship, I would forgive you, and raise you high in my service. The Sixth House was not dead, but only sleeping. Now we wake from our long dream, coming forth to free Morrowind of foreign rulers and divine pretenders. When the land is swept clean of false friends and greedy thieves, the children of Veloth will build anew a garden of plenty in this blighted wasteland._

 _Come to Red Mountain, old friend. For the fellowship and honor that once we shared, I would grant you counsel and power, if only you would pledge that friendship anew. The path to Red Mountain is long, and filled with danger, but if you are worthy, you will find there wisdom, a firm friend, and all the power you need to set the world aright._

 _As ever, your respectful servant and loyal friend,_

 _Lord Voryn Dagoth, Dagoth Ur_

I traced my fingertips over the words, the signature at the bottom. Even the handwriting felt familiar. The sharp curves of the letters. The quick, telltale snaps of his nehts. I'd read missives penned in this hand hundreds of times before. Voryn Dagoth, chief councilor of House Dagoth. I tried to picture his face in my head. I hadn't been able to remember anything further after my corprus was cured, no matter how hard I'd tried, but I still had that one moment. So I forced myself to hold onto that image.

Forever grim, with straight black hair that ran like ink trails. Dark-gold skin, darker eyes, a goatee, and a sharp swoop of a nose. He hadn't had claws then. Hadn't been _this_ then.

 _You struck me down,_ he'd said. I had no way of remembering, no way of knowing, the truth in these words. It sounded right. It felt wrong. The letter held no answers, just more questions. I folded it back up carefully and set it on the side table before getting to my feet. There was work to do.

* * *

Milo wasn't in the Temple library when I arrived. A few careful questions to one of the other librarians led me back out of the library, through a few of the Hall of Wisdom's corridors, and to the door of her private quarters. When I tested the door, I found it wasn't locked. I slowly opened it and peered inside.

The room appeared to be empty. On a shelf beside the bed, a lantern's candle was burned down to nothing. Atop the dresser on the other side of the room were a few books, a potted plant, a couple potion bottles, a folded set of robes, and a note. I picked it up and brought it over to the sparse light to read its contents.

 _Amaya,_

 _Sorry I missed you. I had to run some old documents over to the Inquisitor at the Ministry of Truth, and I_ _'_ _m likely to be tied up there for a while. Why don't you meet me there as soon as you can? Then we can leave together when I'm done. And Amaya, don't forget to bring me the two Divine Intervention scrolls you borrowed. I think I'm going to need them soon._

 _Alvela Saram is the night guard at the entrance; just tell her you_ _'_ _re looking for me, and she'll let you in._

 _Your faithful friend,_

 _Mehra_

 _PS: I left a couple of Levitate potions here for you, just in case. I couldn_ _'_ _t remember if you knew the spell or not, so I drew a couple from stock._

I sucked in a breath through my teeth. The Ministry of Truth. Through scattered bits of information here and there, I'd found out that was the name of that massive rock floating over the Temple canton. Not only that, but it was the Tribunal Temple's prison for those that they wanted to disappear. So they'd caught up with her after all. I still had the scrolls of Divine Intervention that Cosades gave me, thank goodness. He'd thought they "might come in handy". Well, now they were necessary. For an escape plan, it seemed. I just hoped she had more of a plan than that. Otherwise I would just be walking — or flying— into one of the most dangerous places on the island.

* * *

I returned to the Temple Canton under the cover of darkness. Firelight blazed in the decorative braziers scattered around the plaza and in the distance I saw a few of the Ordinators patrolling with torches. A shadow eclipsed part of the light from Masser and Secunda. Even from so far below, I could just make out the darkened latticework that made up the series of platforms ringing the Ministry of Truth. I downed one of Milo's potions after checking that I wasn't being watched and willed myself up to it.

As I got closer, it became clear just how massive the moonlet was. It was easily the size of one of the cantons that made up the city below. The stone was grayish-brown, it's surfaces lopsided and craggy. I had to navigate between bits of rock that had broken away from the main body and hung, suspended, in the air around it. It seemed too still to be real, as if I was looking at an image forever capturing a single moment in time rather than an actual object.

Grabbing onto one of the rope supports that tethered the platforms to the side of the rock, I pulled myself up. And not a moment too soon; I felt the telltale prickling in my hands and feet that told me the potion's effects were quickly wearing off. Boards creaking beneath my feet, I kept walking.

At the end of the platform was a door cut into the surface of the rock itself. Posted beside it was a womer. She was outfitted in the same golden armor as the rest of the Ordinators, though without one of their helmets. A few of her red curls that escaped her thick braid to blow in the wind.

"I'm sorry," she said as I approached, holding up a hand to stop me. "No pilgrims allowed in the Ministry. I'll have to ask you to leave." She paused, then squinted at me through the shadows. "But you're here to visit someone, aren't you?"

"Are you Alvela Saram?" I asked.

She nodded and relaxed a little, but only a little. "Mehra said you would come. Mehra is in the Prison Keep — the center of the Ministry — in the cell on the far right. She said you'd bring scrolls to get out."

"I have them."

"Good. These are the keys to get inside." She handed it to me.

"And if anyone asks how I got them?"

"You subdued me with magic and stole them from me," she said with a shrug. "There was nothing I could do to stop you."

Before I could leave, Saram stopped me with a hand on my arm.

"Some of us are sympathetic to the Dissident priests," she added, "but if you kill an Ordinator, you'll lose that sympathy."

"I understand."

"Good. Now get going."

Using her key, I opened the door and entered the Ministry of Truth. Inside, a series of winding corridors were cut deep into the dark stone. A few torches were placed at irregular intervals, leaving most of the passages in deep shadow. Combining that with a lack of any sort of refinement or decoration, particularly when compared to the Temple Canton below, had a terrifying effect. I could imagine being someone who was dragged in there by the Ordinators, hauled up to the rock before being plunged into darkness. It was what they would try to do to me if they ever found out who I was. I wouldn't give them that chance if I could help it.

In there, the darkness might help the Temple inspire fear, but I was also prepared for it to help me. The ring Cosades gave me was enchanted with a small chameleon spell. Not true invisibility, but enough to allow one to slip into the shadows if you were cautious. There hadn't been enough time to give it a real test, so I could only hope it would be enough.

I activated the enchantment and walked up the tunnel. An Ordinator rounded the corner ahead and I stopped, holding my breath. He didn't so much as glance my way as he passed by. Once he was gone again, I kept going, following the twisting passages around and around.

At the end was a door reinforced with heavy iron bands. It, too, was locked. Using the second key Saram gave me, I opened the door slowly and peered through.

On the other side was a massive chamber that stretched up far beyond the reach of the torchlight. A series of platforms and scaffolding overlooked a pit at the center. Cut into the far wall was several doors. The cells, I assumed. I saw the one that Saram said Milo was being held in. The trouble was that between it and me were at least ten Ordinators. The patrolled the platforms and watched the prisoners from above. The shadows weren't as deep there, and the walkways weren't as wide as the tunnels behind me. They would spot me before long.

I hurried along the platform, trying to avoid the Ordinators. It wasn't enough. As I passed a spot where two of the walkways intersected, one stationed nearby turned to look at me. I froze. Something must have given me away, because his red eyes narrowed and he drew his mace.

"Intruder!" he shouted at me. "Stop!"

The others all turned at his cry, drawing their own weapons as they did.

I ran, shoving my way past one of the guards ahead. As I did, the enchantment must have broken. I barely dodged her incoming attack. Swerving aside, I jumped the railing and landed in a roll. Back on the platforms above, the Ordinators dashed across the walkways and down a set of stairs leading into the pit. I didn't stop again. With Saram's final key, I opened the door that I hoped led into Milo's cell.

The instant I was through, I slammed the door shut, locking it behind me and sending a pulse of energy through it to deter anyone touching the handle. That would buy me a few seconds, at least.

Milo rose from a cot on the other side of the small stone cell and approached slowly, brushing back her tangled copper hair.

"Talise?" she asked in a hoarse whisper.

I pulled off my helmet, shaking out my curls as I did. "I came as soon as I could."

"Then you have the scrolls?"

I pulled one of them out and handed it to her. "I assume you have a plan."

"Of course. Now, listen. These should transport us right to the Imperial Shrine in Ebonheart. Once you get there, go straight to the East Docks and look for a woman named Blatta Hateria. Imperial woman, auburn hair. Tell her I sent you and that you want to 'go fishing'. She'll bring you by boat to Holamayan. Magic conceals the monastery's entrance — it opens at dawn and dusk, and _only_ then. I'll meet you there."

There was the sound of something slamming on the door behind me. I shot a look back over my shoulder to see the wood splintering, and I reached for the second scroll. Once I had it in hand, I locked eyes with Milo again.

"Goodbye, and good luck," she said with a nod. "I'll see you at Holamayan."

She vanished and, as I broke the seal on my own scroll, the door finally burst open. I felt the rush of air on my back as several Ordinators stormed into the chamber. Whispering the words of the spell, the scroll burst into a flash of light in my hands. The world bent around me and then I was gone as well.

* * *

The world righted itself once more and I found myself standing in an Imperial shrine. It wasn't a big room, with only a few rows of pews arranged before an altar. The stone walls were covered in tapestries depicting the symbols of the Nine Divines. An hourglass, a knot, a triangle, a flower, an ouroboros, a bird, a cup, an anvil, and the Imperial dragon. A robed priestess stood behind the altar, one hand frozen on a silver chalice, staring blankly past me. It looked like she'd been that way since before I materialized and I could only assume it was from Milo popping through only seconds earlier. I gave her a hurried apology and left the shrine through the nearby door.

The shrine itself was practically buried in the middle of Ebonheart's massive Imperial-style castle. It took what nearly seemed an age to navigate my way through the corridors and ramparts, and past an inn located just inside the entrance.

On the other side of the drawbridge were the warehouses, big stone buildings all bearing the logo of the East Empire Company. They flanked a plaza with a towering statue at the center depicting a dragon coiled around a stone pillar. On the other side of it all were the docks. Despite the early hour, the space was packed with people making their way toward the ships moored there. I saw everything from smaller boats I assumed were heading for Vivec, to larger vessels ferrying passengers to the mainland, which was a barely visible blur on the southern horizon. I nearly bumped into a red-headed woman hurrying toward one of the ferries.

All the while, I kept an eye out for the Imperial Milo told me about. Finally, I spotted auburn hair through the crowd and I wove my way toward her.

The woman was on a small fishing ship with a blue-and-white striped sail. She knelt on the deck, untangling what looked like a fishing net.

"Are you Blatta Hateria?" I asked her.

She looked up from what she was doing with one eyebrow cocked. "Do I know you?"

"Not… exactly. I was looking to go fishing in the area and a friend told me you might know a spot," I said. Understanding lit up her eyes.

"Talise, right?" When I nodded she got to her feet and brushed off the knees of her trousers. "I know a fine place. Excellent fishing. I can take you now, if you like."

I climbed onto the boat and she cast off. We passed through the harbor and into the open water beyond before turning east. The sky overhead was still full of stars, but the horizon was slowly turning a murky gray, signaling the approach of dawn.


End file.
